


A League of Their Own

by TheAzureAegis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actual Plot (I hope), Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, EVERYTHING IS SLOWLY DEVELOPED. I'M SORRY., F/M, Future Fic, If you're looking for a lot of smut that will not come untill wayyyy later :), Jackson is kinda Whipped, Lydia is always a BAMF, M/M, POSSIBLE CHARACTER DEATH?, Slow Build, Stiles is a BAMF sometimes, They have wayyy too many pack meetings, WIP, Witchcraft, Yet sometimes he's still just as awkward, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 100,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAzureAegis/pseuds/TheAzureAegis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles would have loved to blame this whole situation on Scott, really he did.  </p><p>But he knew, that even if Scott hadn’t been bitten back when they were younger and dumber and their lives turned up-side down and dragged into the supernatural, if he had somehow been offered this opportunity, and suddenly he knew exactly why his father, the Sherriff, loved his job despite the dangers, he would have taken it forthwith.  So he knew he couldn’t really blame Scott.  Not that he would ever let Scott know that.</p><p>Or the one where Stiles and some of the pack become members of a sort of supernatural CIA, and then the plot thickens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So hey guys, this is my first attempt at a fic ever. You heard me, ever. I had this idea rolling around in my head the other night and decided to roll with it! Haha, let me know what you guys think. Unbeta-ed so all mistakes are my own. Would appreciate any comments and feedback! Enjoy!

            Stiles would have loved to blame this whole situation on Scott, really he did.  He gingerly picked up his laptop from where it careened into a hopefully soft pile of dirt and leaves and inspected it with scrutiny.  If this little mission ended up with yet another broken laptop, he decided he wouldn’t let them hear the end of it. The hardware cradled in his hands seemed to pass his preliminary inspection.  He nodded absently to himself and slowly turned around, tucking the notebook against his side and beamed.

            “Don’t worry guys, Macky XXI is alright!” Stiles shouted gleefully fist pumping his hands up in the air. And okay maybe it was only the second laptop he had ever owned, but Macky the XXI sounded so much more sophisticated than Macky II.

            Five pairs of eyes simultaneously rolled before they focused back on their own tasks.  Scott sighed heavily shooting a curt glare at Stiles before thumping his head back on the ground, Lydia hovering a faintly glowing hand over a deep gash tracing the left side of Scott's torso, muttering a counter spell to whatever was preventing his wound from closing.  Allison was close at his side clutching his hand, whispering comforting words to her boyfriend.  Jackson and Derek hauled the bodies of the, as it turned out to be, Wendigos – as in _plural_ – that have been terrorizing the small town of West Winnington for the past three months, across the small clearing in the damp forest into a pile to be burned.

            “Stiles.” Derek grunted, once again exercising his uncanny ability to express a multitude of emotions and sentences with just _one_ word. Unfortunately, no one possessed the just as uncanny ability to decipher all these emotions and sentences, including Stiles – _especially_ Stiles.

            Stiles settled down into the small bed of leaves at his feet and pulled his phone from his pocket shooting off quick e-mail to their handler, reporting in on the success on their assignment.  The warm glow of fire cast shadows around the six as the pile of bodes was set ablaze to ensure that these creatures would not come back to life via witchcraft, necromancy or other—a mistake they had to learn the hard way before. 

            “Greeeeeeat job guys!” Stiles cheered, slowly getting up and dusting the leaves from his jeans.  And despite the injury that Scott had somehow managed to procure, their mission for the most part had gone surprisingly successfully.  The investigation had of course started off slowly, but thanks to Stiles’s super amazing research skills, and a bit of magic thanks to Lydia, just a _little_ bit of magic though, they had a relatively easy time tracking down the creatures’ den and eliminating them before they could do more harm.  It was a testament to how far they have actually come as a team compared to when they first started out just a few short months ago.

            Stiles sighed audibly, the hazy puff of breath in front of him dissipating into the cold late-autumn air.  But a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, for he knew they had done well tonight.  The small town may never know exactly what had been responsible for the murders and the disappearances, least of all who was responsible for stopping them, but standing in the small clearing in the forests that bordered the town, he knew that because of them, no more lives would be lost to these creatures, because of them, the people of West Winnington would be safe tonight.  And he knew, that even if Scott hadn’t been bitten way back when they were younger and dumber and their lives turned up-side down and dragged into the supernatural, if he had somehow been offered this opportunity, and suddenly he knew exactly why his father, the Sherriff, loved his job despite the dangers, he would have taken it forthwith.  So he knew he couldn’t really blame Scott.  Not that he would ever let Scott know that.

* * *

            It happened a couple months into their senior year.  The letters came in the mail under the guise of a college acceptance letter, a mandatory college orientation meeting, or in Stiles’s case, an interview to finalize the details of his much-needed scholarship.  Each letter addressed from their number one choice for attendance. The letters were vague in ever sense of the word, but the seed of curiosity was planted and the sense of urgency was present.  There was little surprise when information was shared between friends and it was discovered that the meeting place for each of these “colleges” was at the same place, relatively close to Beacon Hills, and at the same time.  Something was definitely up.  By this point in the life and times of Beacon Hills, things had come to a relatively peaceful standstill and the werewolf population in the area was relatively static, for the most part, as was the number of werewolf packs in the area—one. Individual talks broke out about ignoring it completely or to scope out the threat, the giant bold letters spelling ‘TRAP” discussion laid out frankly in front of them. 

            Stiles debated the pros and cons of finding out exactly what this was about but no real logical decision was made.  But, then again when was he actually distinctly logical about anything he did? 

            The decision was made to have a meeting as a pack. 

            Derek, of course, was against it from the start.  It was a risk.  A risk he didn’t want his pack to take.  He shut down the idea from the start, telling them all to leave it be.  After Derek had gotten over most of his shiny new Alpha issues, well rather lack-of-being-an-actual-alpha issues, he stepped up to the plate.  He was still a bit awkward with being an authority figure that actually cares, but he nevertheless does actually care and does a hell of a lot better than he did when he first oh so dramatically became the Alpha.

            Stiles, however was all for it.  Curiosity wins over logic yet again.  And if he can’t exactly convince them logically, then whining with a pinch of begging and a side of badassery would just have win them over.

            “Come on guys!  Aren’t you in the least bit curious to what this is about?” Stiles gestured wildly, his hands almost slapping the two closest people seated next to him. 

            Scott, Jackson, Lydia, Issac, Erica, Boyd, Allison and Stiles were all seated around an odd table in the middle of the a little more than half-reconstructed living room in the Hale mansion, Derek naturally standing in the darkest corner in the room looking out under broody eyebrows.

            “Haven’t we been shot at enough for a lifetime?” Issac groaned as he ran his hand down his face, leaning away from the flailing Stiles.  “This has trap written all over it in big, red, bold, wolfsbaney letters.”

            Derek nodded, a stoic look on his face. 

            Stiles glared.  Wolfsbaney was totally not a real word.  Not unless he had been the one to say it.

            “Do you really think hunters sent these letters, which by the way Allison said that her father has no idea about!”  Stiles countered, shooting a pleading look at Allison across from him.  He _had_ done a fair amount of research on the subject.

            Her mouth dropped open momentarily.  “Well, yeah.  My father said he doesn’t think it’s other hunters.  And I don’t either honestly.  This doesn’t feel like a hunter strategy.”  She offered, looking almost apologetic to the rest of the table.  Allison and her father had become allies after Gerard had tried to dupe them all.  The elder Argent still had some reservations about their rag-tag group, but knew that there were greater evils in the world than a pack of mostly teenaged werewolves.  And after Allison finally got back together with Scott and mostly forgave Derek, after hearing the whole story (finally), there wasn’t a hunter alive that they trusted more than Allison.  Not that they trusted any other hunters, or knew any other hunters for that matter.

            “Seeeeeeeee?” Stiles whined, his body leaning so far over the table now that he was practically lying on top of it.  He closed the few inches left between his forehead and the table thumping his face lightly against the wood.  “We should at the very least check it out!”  He shot his head up.  “Dereeeeek, come on!”

            Derek’s left eyebrow twitched at the sharp whine.  “Stiles,” he warned.

            Stiles lay his head back on the table.  _Damned Sourwolf_.

            “I think it might be worth checking out.” Boyd’s deep voice seemed to cause everyone in the room jump.

            Erica shot him an incredulous look.  “Are you serious?  Are we going to go looking for trouble now?” She raised an eyebrow.

            Stiles looked over at her with a soft expression.  Ever since the Alpha pack incident, Erica had calmed down quite a bit.  She went from being a wild card, trouble seeker extraordinaire, to someone more conservative, fighting only when she absolutely had to.  Her eyebrow rose further.

            “All I’m saying is it might be worth checking out, if this is a trap and we ignore it, what’s going to stop them from trying to come at us another way?” Boyd concluded shrugging.

            “Give the man a medal!” Stiles shouted loudly his hand shooting up for a high five in front of Boyd.  Boyd simply stared at the outstretched arm as if it offended him.  “He’s right you know!” He addressed the rest of the pack.  “And the medal is for talking, I mean the guy literally never talks.  He should be rewarded for speaking!  Give him a treat at the very least!”  

            “Stiles honey, you really shouldn’t be making dog jokes at the people who support your opinion.” Lydia cooed condescendingly, her eyes flicking towards Derek.  “But, he’s right—“

            “Yeah I am!  I think I have some cookies in my bag—" 

            Lydia calmly took off her shoe and chucked it at Stiles’s head in one smooth motion, thwacking him dead center on the forehead with the six-inch heel.  He let out a pained whine as clutched his face with both hands.  “If this is a trap,” she continued, shooting a pointed look at the pain-stricken Stiles who was now face planted on the table, “and I really doubt it is at this point, it’s not clever enough, it won’t stop whoever is setting it from eventually coming after us.  Not to mention, each letter was from the colleges of our choices, not the ones that we were gunning for as our number one choice, but the ones that we were most likely to choose and attend.  Who’s to say that these people won’t try and attack us once we are at college and separated?  I say we face this while we can, as a pack.”  She adjusted her gaze to her nails casually.

           Once Lydia was let in about the whole furry secret, and really let in, she embraced the idea of a pack firmly.  Her own family was somewhat of a mess and to belong to something bigger than just herself and Jackson was somewhat of a big deal to her.  She always acted in the interest of the pack above all else.  Which is why she took to magic as soon as she realized the supernatural was real, and apparently magic was too.  Turns out being immune to some supernatural elements, such as a werewolf bite or Kanima venom, was actually the trait of a potentially powerful witch or warlock – or so Stiles had said after doing some research on the subject some months after Jackson finally graduated from Kanima-ism, sparking her interest.  And she took to it like she took to everything else, perfectly, but, also with an extremely large dose of being absolutely freaking terrifying.

           Silence filled the room as the weight of her words settled into their consciousness.   Stiles hadn’t really thought that far through it.  He realized of course that yes, this could in fact be a trap and there could be, surprise!  More trouble in Beacon Hills – Beacon of Troubles Hills, as he fondly thought of his hometown—but he hadn’t gone as far as to think about what this could have meant after they decided to go to their respective colleges.

          Jackson shrugged, breaking the silence.  “She’s right.”

          Lydia offered him a small smile and a pat on the hand.

         Stiles rolled his eyes.  Of course Jackson would support Lydia, even if she were technically always correct she could have announced that she was actually the queen of damned and he would have agreed if he thought it was what she wanted to hear.  Although there was a small possibility of that hypothetical statement being true too, he shuddered at the thought.  Jackson had almost become a real boy after the whole Kanima to werewolf transition; his apathetic asshole streak had been put on the back burner once he realized that hey, these people actually saved his life?  Well, mostly Lydia, which is why he now worshipped the ground she walked on—again.  Although even Stiles felt like kissing her now, and not even in the i-wanna-get-jiggy-with-you type of way he normally wanted it to be.

         Derek looked almost disturbed.  As if he hadn’t expected any kind of logical or reasonable argument to come up at all tonight.  The small scowl on his face kind of erupted into a classic “who-the-hell-just-pissed-in-my-coco-puffs” face. 

         Stiles forced down the giggle threatening to erupt from his throat, which would have effectively ended his short virgin life.  “That would be five to three!”  Stiles announced just short of gleefully pulling his hands away from the heel wound on his forehead and pumping fists straight into the air.  “Me, Lydia, Boyd, Allison, plus Jackson and Scott versus Derek, Isaac and Erica.” He announced when a slew of questioning eyebrows were raised.  And seriously?  How did he end up with a group of friends who communicated more with their eyebrows then their actual words?

         Scott opened his mouth to protest his name being thrown in _against_ his alpha but was cut short by Stiles.

         “Oh _come on_ dude.  You totally know you’re not going to go against Allison.  Take a page from Jackson, dude!”  Stiles quipped, making the gesture of a whip being cracked, effectively earning him glares from all the mentioned parties. 

          Lydia reached under the table for her other shoe.  Stiles visibly winced, letting out a whimper before he quickly sunk back into his chair looking apologetic.  She nodded smugly at his reaction, turning her nose up slightly.

          Derek sighed.  “Fine, but if we are going to do this, we are going to be _extra_ careful."  His gaze drifted over to Stiles. 

          “Of course dawg!  Lyds can totally look up some protective charms and spells we can use, and I’ve gotten us blueprints on the meeting hall that the letters told us to meet.”  He quickly pulled large rolled up blueprints from his bag and laid them on the table, fishing around in his bag for a second before pulling out a pointer stick.  “Now, Scott, Derek, Allison, Lydia, Jackson, and I will go into the meeting, because it’s the team with the most fighting experience.”  He used his pointer to point to the main chamber in the meeting hall.  “Erica, Issac, and Boyd will form a perimeter around the meeting hall and radio into us if they smell or see anything that looks like back-up or a trap.”  He pointed to three dots on the blueprints forming a triangle around the main building.  “If it is a trap and they send in back-up, all the ventilation exits and odd escapes are highlighted in red, and we can get the hell out of dodge.  If they decide to ambush us inside the building, Lyds can use that blinding charm that she used in that fight with the Grimlocks and I’ve concocted more of the smoke bombs we used against the Harpies, and we can fight out way out to any of the exits highlighted in blue.”  He dumped the rest of the contents of his pack on the table.   “These sunglasses are polarized in a way that the frequency of light from Lyd’s blinding spell shouldn’t be able to penetrate the lenses.  And these comms are from Allison’s dad.   He said that no one should be able to listen into our conversations over these.” He finished compacting his pointer in his hands.

           Befuddlement, Stiles thinks.  The one word that could accurately describe exactly the looks on everyone’s faces, save for Lydia who somewhat knew about the plan.  She had helped him make the sunglasses and smoke bombs after all.

          “What?” Stiles shrugged, backing away from the table and all the incredulous looks he was now drenched in.  “I did a _little_ research--” Was all he managed to get out before fumbling over the chair and careening to the floor as graceful as a dying gazelle, only with more gangly limbs, if that was even possible, gazelle limbs are pretty gangly already.

           Derek appeared somewhere above his awkward position on the floor.  “Don’t ever call me ‘dawg’ again.”  He muttered to Stiles, stepping over him towards the kitchen, snagging a pair of the sunglasses on the edge of the table. 

          “I guess Derek’s in then.” Erica resigned, getting up to follow him into the kitchen for a snack.

          “I win then?” He mused to himself, an uncontrollable grin spreading across his face.

           A collective of scoffs echoed around the room, but no one said otherwise. 

          Yeah, Stiles could definitely count this as a win.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They attend the meeting. It's exactly what they thought, yet exactly the opposite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I felt the first chapter was really weak to post alone. So I powered out this chapter. It's a glimpse into some of the more actiony scenes that I plan to write. Please leave me feedback as it encourages me to write more :D. (I'm a feedback whore) Unbeta-ed, obviously, mistakes are my own. I don't own any of the characters except the original ones which I do own? Other disclaimer stuff yadda yadda, enjoy.

### Chapter 2

            And of course it would be witches.  Powerful witches, none of that _ooh-fear-me-looky-I-can-levitate-a-feather_ crap and more along the lines of, Yeah-I-just-summoned-a-golem, sup?

            Yep.  Golems. 

            As in massive, eight foot tall, stone, metal, and wood golems who apparently had no qualms against flashy spells and smoky bombs.

            They were actually surprised to find that the parking lot for the meeting hall a few miles out from Beacon Hills was actually full when they had arrived, they actually had to find parking over two blocks away in a McDonalds parking lot.  And no, it wasn’t a magical illusion, or so Lydia had confirmed with a quick spell of her own.  So either their hosts were extremely rich and filled the parking lot with their own private collection of cars, or well he hadn’t really had time to think past the extremely wealthy theory. Yet.

            The meeting hall they were directed to by the letter turned out to be quite massive.  The blueprints had hinted at its enormity, but in person it felt almost like an arena, which should have been their first warning.  Beyond the initial foyer, the building opened up into a rather fancy looking large room.  It truly was a meeting hall for all practical purposes; half the population of Beacon Hills could probably fit in this room comfortably.  The room itself was rectangular in shape and led up to a low stage with a grand podium front and center.  The longer sides of the room were paneled with drapes of red curtains that added texture and depth to the otherwise rather plain walls with half columns spaced out across the walls periodically to break up the space.  Small potted plants and trees peppered the areas around the foldable wooden chairs and large buffet tables set up for mass assemblies, adding just a dash of green to the otherwise red and white room.  Well, at least that was what the room _looked_ like, five minutes ago.

            Stiles pushed his back intimately against a heavy, wooden up-turned table as splinters of what was left of the chairs in the hall exploded violently into his cover and clipped his right shoulder.  He hissed as the pain shot up down his arm, but shook it off concentrating at the task at hand.  He had luckily brought more than just smoke bombs to their chance altercation and it would hopefully pay off.

            He sort of liked thinking of himself as the Batman of the group now, well if Batman could be Batman with about eight other Batmen, while being Robin at the same time. 

            What?  It made sense. 

            As the pack progressed in their own ways, becoming faster, stronger, better at magic (in Lydia’s case), a better hunter (in Allison’s), and a better Alpha, Stiles started to feel somewhat left behind.  That is, until he started tinkering.  It started with simple things, like traps that the hunters had laid, only with his own brand of tweaks.  Instead of just hanging someone by their leg after being ensnared the mechanism would release a strong smelling liquid that the werewolves would be able to detect miles away.  Then there were the smoke bombs, the modified Molotov cocktails, and the grappling hook (which is a work in progress, really) among other things.  His vivid imagination and endless supply of comic books pushed the limits of his creations.  And Allison and Lydia were always willing to lend a hand and critique on his latest creations.

            He held a thick flask of a brownish looking liquid in his hands as he steeled his breath, waiting for the right moment to make his move.

            Derek, Scott, and Jackson stood in a triangle around the golems dodging the massive, swinging limbs occasionally dipping in for a quick, calculated strike, but clearly staying on the defensive.  Derek had hastily laid out a sound plan over their comms as soon as it was clear that the host leading them into the room was clearly not from their colleges as he locked the doors behind the six of them.  Issac, Erica, and Boyd had reported that there was no one else going into the building after the fight had started, but a sort of magical barrier had formed around the building, effectively sealing the six in, and keeping the others out.

            The plan was simple.  The three werewolves, as the most obvious threat in the room would draw the attention of the magical golems, while the humans went after the conjurers.

            Of course the problem was, you know, the plan wasn’t exactly simple to act out.

            Stiles groaned as he pulled a splinter out of his shoulder frowning at the red shaded tip as he flicked it to the rubble-covered floor.  And really?  Who uses Golems indoors?  Golems should have a strict restriction labeled on them “FOR OUTDOOR USE ONLY” like those little tags on mattresses and pillows about not removing them by penalty of law. Which he _totally_ hadn't done to prove his badassery to Scott when they had turned twelve. Nope, not this cool guy.  And yeah, this is his brain without Adderall.

            “Stiles.” He heard his named called over the comm.  It was Jackson, the strong disposition against using comms in the first place in his voice a dead giveaway.  “Your side of the room is clear.”  He was almost gritting out his words now.

            He quickly peeked around the side of the table quickly locating one of the conjurers on the opposite side of the room slinging spells at the werewolves while laughing, well cackling really, but he’s not one to stereotype. 

Right, even he didn’t believe that one.

            “Conjurer, far side of the room, next to the podium.  11 o’clock from my location.”  Stiles said over the comm ducking quickly back behind the table as the mage turned in his direction.

            “Can you fur-brains actually _try_ to dodge some of the spells they are slinging at you?  My protective charms will only last for a set amount of spells.  It literally took me hours to weave those charms and you’re undoing the effects in a matter of minutes.  If you don’t start dodging, the next few spells _will_ hit you.” Lydia hissed over the comms.  Stiles could _feel_ Jackson visibly wince at the tone.  Heck, he even winced.  “Oh and conjurer opposite side of stage from the one Stiles just pointed out.  Three o’clock from the zenith of the room.”

            “I have a shot.” Allison whispered over the comm. "Taking it."

            Stiles chanced a peek around the table just in time to see the arrow whiz right over the conjurer’s head as he dodge-rolled out of the way.

            “Close, babe.” Scott comforted over the comm.

            “Scott! Pay attention to the golems!” Derek chided as Scott was smacked across the room by the stone golem and bounced noisily off a wall landing on a potted plant on a small side table, seemingly unconscious.

            “Scott!” Alison squeaked over the Comm. 

            Stiles almost rolled his eyes.  Seriously she is one of the most badass hunters, like ever and yet sometimes she still acts like a Disney princess. He loved that about her.

           “You’re being too obvious!” Lydia hissed over the comm again.  “They know you’re just the distraction.  They are just biding their time and whittling you guys down.  We need to switch.  We’ll take the golems.”

           “No, too dangerous.”  Derek immediately responded.

           “While I like all my limbs exactly where they are and I don’t heal as fast as the rest—“

           “Stiles, point.”  Lydia said pointedly.

           “I agree with Lyds.  I have an idea for the golems anyways.” Stiles looked down at the bottle in his hands. "We will provide a distraction using the golems, that should allow you to take out the mages."

           “Fine.  Do it.”  Derek relented over the comm.

           “Aly, give us some cover fire.” Stiles ordered.

           Allison dodged from her cover behind a panel of cloth draping awkwardly downwards, firing bolts from two crossbows, one in each hand, before dropping them and slinging her bow from over her shoulder into her hands strategically firing a barrage of arrows around the room.  The bolts caused the two conjurors positioned on the stage to panic slightly and duck behind the nearest covering.  The third conjurer on the floor next to a golem ducked behind his creation.

          “Now, go after the two witches on the stage!” Stiles hissed as he awkwardly rolled out from his covering, rolling headfirst into a bolder thrown by the stone golem.

          “Stiles, seriously, face in my palm.” Jackson quipped over the comm, quickly jumping on to the stage.

          “Shut it!” He hissed back wobbling to his feet.

           Chairs careened across the room splintering into dust into the walls.  The golems were closing in on Alison’s location swinging widely at the rubble and debris between them and her. Which oddly reminded Stiles of Greenburg on the lacrosse field. Heh. 

"Aim for their eyes Aly!" Stiles shouted into the comm, getting ready to make a break for it.

"They don't _have_ any eyes, Stiles!" She seethed back.

          "Use the bola! Yeah, the bola!" Stiles strafed sideways catching Lydia’s location on the opposite side of the room from him, as Allison threw detached the bola from her utility belt (that Stiles had suggested and made) slinging it at the stone golem's legs. The device successfully wrapped around the golem's legs multiple times as it staggered in place.  Stiles dived behind another table directly to the left of the wooden golem.  He took a shaky breath before standing up and kissing the flask in his hand and throwing it with all his might at the wooden golem.

          “Aly, stay there and gather them closer.” He said into the comms as the flash shattered harmlessly on the back of the wooden golem’s head.  It didn’t even flinch.

          “What the hell was that Stilinski?!” Jackson hissed over the comm.

          “Jackson!  He’s headed your way, pay attention!” Derek growled voice crackling through the earpiece.

          Stiles heard a muffled curse as the mage slipped past Jackson on the stage.  But his focus was elsewhere; he had to time this perfectly.  He immediately ran across the room towards Lydia and fished out another flask from his messenger pack.  The light blue liquid sloshed violently as he ran throwing the flask at the immobilized stone golem as he dived past behind a small pile of chair pieces.  It shattered just as harmlessly on the stone golem’s side.

          “Aly, now!  Get out!” Stiles wheezed as he hit the ground hard a sharp pain shooting through his shoulder.

          But the golems were too close now.  The metal golem swung its arm full of sharp odds and ends at her just as she dodged the stone golem’s crushing attack a surprised painted across her face as she realized she had no time to dodge this attack.  Suddenly, Scott was there and pushed Allison out of the way just in time as the metal golem’s attack clipped his left shoulder painting a trail of red across his shirt sleeve.  Allison got to her feet and without hesitation Allison got the hell out.  She gracefully back flipped over a table before breaking into a run towards the table Stiles had originally used as cover. 

          “Scott!  Oh my god!  Are you okay?!” She cried over the comm.

          “Yeah, I’m fine, it’s already healing.”  He replied lovingly.

           Seriously, if Stiles weren’t in pain right now, he’d probably be retching.

           Lydia put a hand on his shoulder as she crouched down next to him.  Giving him a concerned yet confused face.

 _Oh yeah, the plan._ He dumbly reminded himself.

           “Epoxy fire.” He muttered to Lydia as he eyes immediately lit up.

            Derek and Jackson flew across the room.  Sliding to a halt as they collided with a pile of chairs not far from Stiles and Lydia.  The conjurer on the floor had rejoined his colleagues on the stage and they looked _pissed._

           “Charms wore off.” Derek grunted out from the floor.

           “Ya think?” Lydia shot him a look as he slowly got up from the floor.

           “Lyds, Aly, now!” Stiles shouted out.

           “Wait, what?” Allison answered, confused.

           “Epoxy fire!  You’re the wooden guy!” Stiles practically screamed.

           “Oh.  OH!” Allison quickly searched her belt for a lighter.  She quickly notched a cloth tipped arrow and lit it on fire, firing it straight into the wooden golem’s head with a hollowed _thunk_.  The liquid from the flask ignited immediately burning a dazzling red hue.

            The golem went berserk, flailing its massive limbs and crashing into the other golems in close proximity.

            Lydia stood up with dignity as she muttered a quick spell under her breath gathering the necessary strength within her.  Her strawberry blonde hair seemed to glow as the spell reached its completion and the stone golem in front of her ignited into a brilliance of blue flames.

            Stiles gave her a thumbs up and a grin, ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder.

            The two flaming golems wobbled into each other catching the third metal golem down into a pile as the flames intermingled with each other, morphing into a conflagration of deep purple.  The flames erupted into a volcano of sparks and fire illuminating the entire room.

            “Glasses!” Stiles yelled pulling on his glasses as everyone else quickly did the same.

            “Jacks, Scott, Derek!  Now, while they’re blinded!” Lydia shouted, slumping slightly from exerting herself into the spell. 

            In a flash the three werewolves surrounded the three mages and swiftly knocked them out cold.

            Stiles pushed himself up into a sitting position and leaned against an exhausted Lydia both chuckling as the brilliance of the fire faded and the florescent lighting overtook the room once again.

            The golems lay motionless and charred in a neat little pile in the middle of the room.

            Allison helped Scott over to them one arm slung over her shoulder but both grinning as well before Jackson and Derek hopped down from the stage dragging the mages and depositing them into a pile next to Stiles.

            “Are they,” Stiles gulped, poking the shoulder of the nearest conjurer before looking up at Derek, “dead?”

            “If they were, we couldn’t ask them who they were working for.”  Derek said exasperatedly as if he were explaining himself to a four year old.

            “Oh.” Stiles thought out loud.  “Good point.”

            Lydia sighed beside him.

            “Guys!” Their comms shouted to them.  “We could hear you guys and the fight is over right?  Because the barrier, it’s still there!”  Erica shouted frantically over the comm.

            “We still can’t get in, this is really weird.” Issac supplied.

            “Hmm.” Stiles hummed.  “This is extra freaky.” He continued as quizzical looks were pointed at him.  “I mean normally, when we get lured into a trap—“

            “Which I _was right_ about.” Derek interjected smugly.

            “Yeah, and we kicked serious tail, by the way.” Stiles preened, gaining small grins from more than one person.  “Anyways, back to weirdness 101.  Normally, trap, grand villain reveal, an indefinite amount of monologue, then _bam_ fight.”  He slammed his fist into his hand at bam and winced at the pain in his shoulder. 

Derek shuffled uncomfortably in place.

            “Overly simplified, but I suppose.” Lydia nodded thoughtfully.

            “Right, but this time, get here, seems sort of legit for half of a half of a second—“

            “That’s one fourth of a second!” Scott announced proudly after somehow figuring that out on his fingers.

            “McCall.  Face.  In.  Palm.” Jackson said face palming.

            “Anyways!” Stiles yelled, getting back to the point.  “We get in, no introductions just a, yeah you’re here write your name and begin…” he trailed off.  He shot a quick glance at Lydia, her features hardened as the realization dawned on her.

            “What?” Allison asked concerned.

            “Almost like a te—“ Stiles was cut off by a slow, pronounced clap.

            “And you passed with flying colors.” The voice cut through the room like a gunshot as all the werewolves began growling, eyes set ablaze in a myriad of yellow, blue, and a deep crimson.

            “No, really.  I had expected you to win, actually, to somehow prevail, despite your,” he glanced over at Stiles, “handicaps.”  The man was less than twenty feet away by now, most of his facial features masked by the wide brim of his top hat.  Like seriously, a Cat in the Hat type top hat.  A long onyx trench coat shielded the rest of him from view, but a slender black walking cane silver tipped and with the clutch of a blue tinged orb hung from his left hand’s grasp.

            Stiles frowned at this as Derek stepped in front of him, shielding him from the unnamed man.

            “But not only did you prevail, you didn’t kill the witches, and you didn’t lose any of your teammates.” The man grinned.  “Bravo.”  He clapped again.

            “Who.  Are.  You.” Derek gritted out trying his best to stay in his more human form.

            “People who have been watching you lot for quite some time now.” A new voice with a British accent floated in from the left.  A tall beautiful, yet dangerous looking woman with flowing black hair stepped into view.  She almost reminded Stiles of Allison, almost.  Allison didn’t quite have the look of a cold hard killer.  While she had her moments in the past where she almost went Kate on all their asses, she reeled herself back in and took control of her emotions to return to the friend they all once knew and loved.  The woman in front of them had all of the qualifications of a controlled killer; only there was no evidence of anything other than that, no Disney princess lurking beneath the surface.  What you see is what you get.

            “We took notice quite some time ago actually.  Back when the Hales and the Hales alone were the dominant pack of this territory.”  She continued.

            Derek stiffened in his place in front of Stiles.

            “We are from an organization called The Agency, and we are here to make you an offer.”  Her smile was almost dangerous.

            “We decline.” Derek replied quickly, a growl barely suppressed.  “We don’t make deals with people who try to kill us.”

            “Generally.”  Stiles added quietly, earning himself that suppressed growl Derek was holding back.

            He whimpered melting back into the floor.

            “Now, now, alpha Hale.  Temper, temper.” The trench coated man warned.  “Hear us out.”

            “The Agency investigates and, well,” she paused pondering for a moment before she continued, “ _handles_ malevolent supernatural creatures.”

            “Are you here to _handle_ us, then?” Derek snapped.

            “If we were, you wouldn’t be standing there, now would you?” The dangerous smile returned.  “Now, then before you interrupted me so rudely, ah, right.  The Agency investigates supernatural occurrences, deems them malevolent or not, reports on them and then either handles them or submits the report for future reference.”

            “So like a supernatural CIA?  And you want us to be what?  Agents?” Stiles asked.

            “Precisely, love!” She answered jovially.  The shift from serious was almost too much to bear.  “I like him.” She said pointing a thumb at him looking at her associate.

            “Declined.”  Derek repeated, eyes glowing crimson.

            “In return for your cooperation we would allow certain privileges and protections.”  The man spoke up again.  “Your families that are human would be protected by the agency and their financial burdens taken care of.”

            Jackson scoffed.  “Please, I--we don’t need your money.”

            “You may not, but,” The woman started.

            “Enough, Ari.” The man practically snapped.  “You have our offer, we will allow you some time to think about it, not much though.  Have an answer by the end of the week.  We will not ask again.”  He snapped his fingers and the bodies of the mages and the golems disappeared.

            And with that they turned and simply left.  Leaving the six of them rooted in place in a trashed meeting hall.  They still hadn’t really moved a muscle as Boyd, Erica, and Issac finally burst in with a slew of questions having heard bits and pieces of what was said over the comms.

            Derek brushed it off, saying that they needed to discuss this as a pack, and soon.  But he didn’t see them as a big threat.

            Derek held out a hand to help Stiles up.  He accepted it gratefully as he cradled his other arm, the pain finally settling in for the night.

            “Your shoulder.” Derek said flatly.

            “Yeah, its fine.” Stiles replied almost automatically.

            “Get it looked at later.” Derek said in his “I’m your alpha” voice.

            “Yeah, its probably just sprained or something.” _Can you even sprain your shoulder?_ He thought to himself.

            “Can you even sprain your shoulder?” Derek asked, clearly a mind reader.

            “I—Derek, what do you think of…The Agency?” He asked the older man carefully.

            “I’m not sure.”

            “What about those two then?”  Stiles asked.

            “Not sure.”  He replied shrugging.

            “You didn’t hear them, did you?” Stiles said barely in a whisper so only Derek could hear him.  “I could tell that when they walked in, you didn’t even know they were there till they spoke.”

            Derek thought a second before he curtly nodded, looking down at the floor.

            “It’s okay.” Stiles said in a normal voice.  “Me neither.” He chuckled.

            Derek gave a small smile and shook his head.

            “Oh god guys!  Is it after 10:30?  I really wanted a sausage McMuffin from McDonalds!”  Stiles whined following everyone else out the door as they ignored him. "I'll settle for a McGriddle then, but no less!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inconsistencies can be the end of me so please point out any that you see. (I confuse names sometimes)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another pack meeting at the Hale estate.

### Chapter 3

School the next day seemed to pass by all too slowly.  Stiles’s mind was running a mile a minute, which was albeit normal, but something about this whole situation was really bothering him, and he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

After school he headed straight home with Scott.  Lacrosse practice was called off due to some sort of freak sprinkler incident and Scott offered to drive him to school after being diagnosed with a _stressed_ shoulder which oddly sounded like _sprained_ to him, so yeah I guess you can sprain your shoulder.  He would have to tell Derek that later.

Right.  Derek.

As in the stealthy, ninja sourwolf who was, naturally, waiting for him in his room.  And really, one would think immunity would be built up to being scared to death by broody figures lurking about in your room, when it happens on a regular basis anyways.

At least he didn’t quite shriek this time.  It was more of a manly wail.

“Stiles.” Derek’s usual one word greeting and dismissal of whatever reaction he just invoked with his creeperness.  He nodded towards Stiles.  Note to self: Get a better window latch sooner than later.  Right, then.

“Derek,” Stiles mocked his tone as his heart rate returned to a somewhat normal level.  “To what do I owe today’s pleasurable visit?” He dropped his bag and plopped down on his rolling computer chair, back turned to his visitor.  He powered on his laptop and waited for it to boot up.

No response.

He peeked over his shoulder after a second to see if Derek was still even there.  And he was.  Spacing out staring at Stile’s shoulder.  And what?  Oh, right.  His shoulder was in a sling.

“So, it turns out you can actually sprain your shoulder.” He wiggled his injured arm for show, wincing when pain shot up and down the limb.  He had seen a doctor not too long after they had arrived back in Beacon Hills, blaming the incident on a rough Lacrosse practice.  He realized the only reason he was still on the team, was to blame all of his supernatural injuries on the sport.  It’s a wonder no one has ever questioned the strange injuries either.  He’s guessing most doctors and nurses don’t even know what Lacrosse _is,_ and finds himself wondering what exactly they think the sport entails after seeing all of his injuries.  His father already gives him enough crap about his myriad of injuries.

He grimaced at that though.  Derek shakes his head at this point, snapping himself back to reality.

“Stiles.” Again with the one word responses, this loquacious wolf, seriously.

“Derek.” He mocked again.  “I feel like we’ve done this part already?” He tilted his head at the alpha, who was still standing exactly where he was when Stiles walked in.

“Right.  What did you find out about The Agency?”  It came out more of a statement than a question.

Stiles cocked his head the other way.  “Uh, you didn’t ask me to research them?  What do _you_ know about The Agency?”

Derek narrowed his eyes slightly before stepping closer to the boy.

Stiles couldn’t help but roll his chair backwards a bit at this move.  Although over the years the two of them had become a lot closer, as in closer than Stiles hoping he would get out of his jeep and die somewhere on the streets, and more along the lines of yeah, we’ve saved each other a ton of times and we might actually not hate each other?  Although, he still felt a little, _unnerved_ around the wolf.  Yeah, unnerved, he could work with that word.

Derek stopped in his tracks at Stiles’s reaction.  “Look.  I know you.  You probably have a whole folder dedicated to them by now.”  He rolled his eyes.

And Stiles couldn’t help but swell a little bit with pride at that statement.  At least someone acknowledged his awesome research skills and initiative.  “It’s more of a computer file.  _Nobody_ uses paper any more.” Stiles noticed Derek shoving a folded up sheet of paper behind his back and grinned.  “Even your creepy uncle kept his records on a computer.”

Derek grimaced. 

Peter Hale.  Stiles _fondly_ remembered him.  Even if his advances towards Stiles had been _completely_ honorable and about business, albeit creepy and homicidal, at the time, the fact was, after the whole Gerard incident, and with the threat of the alpha pack closing in, the man had fled town like a gazelle on the African Plains.  And yeah, maybe he needed to think of fewer analogies that involved gazelles.  But he liked gazelles.  They kind of reminded him of himself, you know with the fast running and the gangly limbs and the getting eaten by lions and other big furry animals.  Hopefully not that last part.  He gulped at the thought.

“Stiles, focus.” Derek groaned, probably recognizing the look on his face that he usually got when his mind went off on a tangent leaving his body as a decorative paperweight wherever he stood. 

“Right, anyways, I don’t have much.  The Agency is obviously an alias, and it’s vague.  Anything typed into Google usually just landed me with some sort of movie with an extremely predictable plot, or something along the lines of letting ‘The Agency’ handle your litigation needs.  Which actually means legal action.  I know, it sounded kinky to me too at first.”  He tried waggling his eyebrows, which probably looked like an isolated face spasm.  He could live with that.

Derek pinched at the bridge of his nose shaking his head before shooting him the classic ‘what is my life even’ look.

“Buttttt,” Stiles spun his chair back around and alluded to a website on his computer.  “There are mentions of some sort of organization that calls themselves “The Agency” that investigates special cases.”  He pointed at a forum for a website called supernaturallyfreaky.net.  “Most of the mentions of the organization are after complaints about strange happenstance in small towns or neighborhoods.  And usually the complaints aren’t lodged again.”  Stiles shrugged.  “It is consistent with what they told us, at the very least.”

Stiles turned his head to find Derek peering right over his shoulder to look at the screen.  His breath hitched slightly.  Right, so maybe unnerved had been a teensy bit deflective.  He wasn’t exactly sure when it had started, but being alone with Derek would sometimes make his palms sweat and his heart race a bit, and not because he was scared.  Well, not always.  But he knew it would be awkward.  Werewolves and their pesky emotion smelling, damn them.  Luckily, Stiles had found out through some, experimentation on Scott (which is totally read as research), that certain stronger smells could mask one’s emotions, or at least the smells that were a dead giveaway to these emotions.  Smells like certain strains of wolfsbane, ashes from strong smelling woods like pine, and surprisingly cayenne pepper.  Stiles also found out that if you just used a small amount of cayenne pepper in your normal everyday things like deodorant, or shampoo and body wash, it was an effective emotion-block for against your everyday werewolf.  It just took him a while to find the balance between smelling like just deodorant and no emotions and the ‘why the hell do you smell like you just rolled in a barbeque dry rub’ amounts.  Oh, and he totally learned how to make his own deodorant on YouTube which is surprisingly simple.  It’s just one cup of – oh, right, tangent. 

The pinched look returned to Derek’s face.  And how is this guy’s face not covered in wrinkles by now?

“This is all I could find about them in the records Peter left.” Derek handed Stiles a single sheet of paper.

Stiles gently unfolded the plain sheet of paper to find a neat handwritten paragraph dated back in the 1800’s by a Remelius Hale.  _And that name totally doesn’t scream out werewolf,_ he thought to himself with a chuckle.

 

_Emma reported in today that the enraged Slyphs in the eastern forests that were causing the township of Estherton troubles have suddenly vanished.  She followed a strange scent to a small group of formally dressed gentlemen.  Emma said she could hear them discussing an “Agency” and the need to report back that the Slyphs were no longer an issue.  Keeping an ear out for any other information regarding this “Agency” and informed pack to keep a low profile for the time being._

_-Remelius Hale_

_October 27, 1827_

“Slyphs?” Stiles quirked a brow, reaching to scratch his head with his good arm as it hit him.  “As in, air elementals?”

Derek sighed.  “Really, that’s all you got from that?”  He rolled his eyes.

“No, I got the rest too, just.  Slyphs exist?”

“Are you surprised?”  Derek countered.

Stiles pondered for a moment before he replied.  “I suppose not.”  “Anyways,” he continued handing the letter back to the brooding man.  “The Hale line goes way back, huh?”  He looked up at Derek thoughtfully.

He nodded, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

_Well that’s strange. Oh. OHHHHHH.  Oh crap._ “Shit, Derek, sorry man.  I mean I’m sure the Hale line will continue strong like it as always was-- has.  You just need to find some special someone and make tons and tons of puppies with them!” He spit out awkwardly in one breath. 

Derek gave Stiles an incredulous look before letting out a small sigh and an even smaller grin.  He shook his head.  “Right.  Just as simple as that.” He turned and walked towards the window already having one leg out before turning back around to face Stiles, still on his chair.  “Pack meeting, tomorrow after school, make sure Scott knows.”

“We have Lacros—“

And with that Derek disappeared out of his window into the evening sun. 

Stiles ran a hand down his face, sighing.  “Tons and tons of puppies?  Really?” He shook his head and spun his chair back around, flailing violently as the chair tipped over and crashed to the floor, with him still in it.

 

*                                              *                                              *

 

Lacrosse practice was once again cancelled to the befuddlement of the entire athletics department, as the newly replaced sprinkler heads had been damaged and the field flooded, once again.  Coach Flintstock just yelled at everyone to do a 10-mile run or something constructive.

Stiles had an inkling that a certain, in-need-of-serious-anger-management wolf was involved with this.  He didn’t know whether to call him out on it or hug him.  Oh, but hugging Derek Hale?  He liked his limbs where they were and entrails neatly tucked inside himself, thank you.

Scott and Stiles were the last ones to show up at the Hale mansion, making a quick stop at the grocery store to buy some food as Derek never kept the fridge stocked, or rather he did, but when you have a house full of teenaged werewolves, the fridge never stayed stocked for more than 20 minutes.

It was just after four when Stiles finished cooking some of the most badass creamy macaroni and four cheeses with bacon, the pack’s favorite.  Who would have guessed?  When Derek (who had seconds and thought Stiles hadn’t seen) announced that they should seriously discuss what to do about The Agency.

It went as Stiles imagined it, mostly.  Derek said no, Lydia pointed out the potential risks of saying no and the repercussions, Stiles put forth his and Derek’s research on the organization, Jackson agreed with everything Lydia said, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd nodded along everything Derek said, Allison put forth her knowledge of the hunter world, and Scott just looked confused the entire time.  Yep, completely normal.

“Okay, so we pretty much agree that if we do say no, that they most likely will come after us in some way or another?” Allison asked gravely.

“Most likely.” Lydia supplied, folding her hands on the table.

“I don’t think I can do this again.” Scott whispered.

All eyes shot to him.  He perked up slightly before sighing.

“My mom.  I mean the last time she was in danger, the thing with Matt,”

Allison winced slightly at the mention of his name.

“It was like a rollercoaster.  I never knew if Gerard was going after her or if Matt was going to kill her.  It just royally sucked guys.”  He flopped his head down on the table Stiles-style.

A silenced followed his Stiles-flop.

And that’s when it hit him.  The weird feeling, the thing nagging at him that he felt like he should have known about.  How could he be so dumb?  He clearly remembered that same day that Matt had gone after Scott’s mom, because he had gone after Stiles’s Dad too.  And wasn’t that a trip, a rollercoaster didn’t even come close.  Because although Scott may have felt the same way about his loved one being in danger, it was one hundred times worse for Stiles, who laid helplessly paralyzed as he watched the almost-murder of the only family he had left.  A familiar pain gripped his chest.

Derek’s eyes snapped over to him almost instantly.

He inwardly panicked.  _I’m wearing the deodorant; he shouldn’t be able to smell me.  Oh, right, pulse, breathing.  Gotta calm down._   He took deep breaths.  No one else seemed to notice his small breakdown.  He made a decision on the spot.

“Look, I’m sure if it comes down to it, Derek and the rest of us will do whatever we can to keep your mom safe.” Stiles said steadily, making sure to actually believe anything that he was saying.  It was amazing how good he got at lying to werewolves. 

“What about your Dad?” Scott replied after a second, concern settling into his face for his friend.

“I’m sure they will do the same for him as well.  Plus, my Dad is in law enforcement, I would hope they would think twice before getting involved in that mess.”  Stiles lied again.  His heart rate picked up despite his experience.

“It’s in the best interest of the pack to not get involved with these guys anyways.  Majority rules.  Derek, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Me, are against joining.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Scott looked a bit defeated at this statement.

Lydia smiled over to Stiles.  “If you’re against it, then I suppose I am too.” She said with a hint of disbelief. 

Stiles smiled back at her.  She had become his best girl friend sometime after her and Jackson got back together, and even if it wasn’t the type of girlfriend he actually wanted, he was happy anyways.  Having Lydia Martin as your ally was most definitely a good thing.  Even if it meant being soooooo far into the friend zone now that it wasn’t even funny.  He might as well be gay in her eyes.  But that’s a discussion for another time.

“I guess that settles it.  We will have a strategy meeting later.  Everyone go home and get some rest.  Try to come up with some plans and tactics.” Derek looked at Stiles.

It’s nice to know that Derek had come to somewhat rely on Stiles and Lydia for a plan most of the time.  The two of them together were a force to be reckoned with when it came to strategy.  Although Lydia was the one usually delivering the strategy, less chance of going off on tangents she said.

Derek nodded at Stiles.  Stiles forced a smile back at him before grabbing Scott and pulling him outside the house.

“Hey man!  I was hoping to talk to Allison a bit before we left.  Do you really need to get home that badly?”  Scott whined at his best friend.

“No, but we need to talk.  Allison can come too though.  She caught a ride here with Jackson and Lydia, right?”

“Yeah, let me just grab her, and we can go.” He eyed Stiles weirdly.

He couldn’t say anything here—too many furries with too good hearing.  Damned werewolf powers.  He walked over to Scott’s car and waited in the front seat, bouncing his leg impatiently.  Allison and Scott came along just a few minutes later and were pulling out of the Hale estate.  When Stiles was sure that they were definitely out of earshot of the rest he turned to Scott and Allison.

“So,” he chuckled nervously, “How do you feel about joining The Agency, just the three of us.”  He prompted.

Scott swerved slightly before pulling off the road.

“What?!” Scott and Allison harmonized.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A decision is made between Stiles, Allison, and Scott. Hopefully for the right reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will try to get another chapter up by tomorrowwwwwww. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! Thank you to everyone who commented and kudos. As usual not beta-read so try to overlook the mistakes or point them out with a vengeance so I can fix them.

They pulled off the road somewhere after the exit to the main highway from the Hale estate.  Allison and Scott were staring at him, mouths slightly agape, expecting an answer. 

Stupor, Stiles decided.  Yes, stupor properly described their combined expressions.  And suddenly Stiles regretting giving that word of the day calendar to Derek as a gag gift explaining that it would, “expand one’s vocabulary, because when one’s entire conversation or sentences usually consisted of just one word, they should make that word count!”

Allison was the first to snap out of her state of _stupor_.  Probably realizing that Stiles’s mind was starting to wander and the silence wouldn’t fix that.  She shook her head.  “Wait, weren’t you the one _just_ arguing _against_ just that?”  She crossed her arms.  “The entire discussion was dropped because of your input.”

“I’m confused.”  Scott furrowed his brow and wiped a hand down his face.

“Big surprise—“ Stiles started, with his usual eye roll but stopped.  _Snarky sarcasm later, explaining now._ He reminded himself.  “Look, Scotty.  You brought up an excellent point about your mom.  You know?  It’s hard to protect people if you’re not there all the time, and even when you are, sometimes it’s still not enough.”  His thoughts slipped back to his mom’s illness.  He shook it off.

Scott took a second before he nodded solemnly.

“And it’s not that I don’t trust Derek, you, or the others.  Not the issue at all.”  _Okay, maybe Jackson._ He thought.

“Jackson’s been a lot better recently though.” Allison added in thoughtfully.

Oh.  He said that out loud?  Damn, he thought he was over that awkward period where he couldn’t tell his thoughts from his speech.  He decided to file that away for therapy later.  Lots and lots of therapy, maybe they would give him a discount.

“Anyways,” he focused back on the subject.  “It’s not trust that’s the issue, it’s the fact that we can’t always be here to protect our parents.  And although a sheriff’s pay isn’t just beans and rice, it’s nowhere near enough to send me away for college without some semblance of financial aid.”  He stopped.  “We actually just finished paying off the medical bills.  You know, from mom.” He shifted his eyes away from the concern in Scott and Allison’s eyes.  “This Agency obviously has deep pockets, and the resources needed to make good on protection promises.”

“That aside, I’m not too sure about this.  Just us three?”  Allison voiced, concern clear.

“Well, you heard the rest, they don’t want or need the protection for their families, and everyone else is either rich or have some sort of supernatural fallback.”  He thought about how selfish it made him sound, but shook it from his mind.  He had to do this.  For his Dad.  For Scott’s mom.  And in a weird way, for the pack.  Or that’s what he would tell himself.

“I _know_ it’s selfish to ask you two.  And you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, either of you, but I figure it’s always been you and me Scott, and Allison, this is like the league of super hunters, so it’s like what you’re already doing?”  He was kind of grasping at straws now.  “Plus, Scott won’t go anywhere without you.”

Scott opened his mouth to protest before sinking back into his seat and relenting a meek nod.

Allison sighed.  “I’m not saying yes, but we need to talk about a few things to figure out what we are going to do.  I’m not too worried about my Dad, he’s a hunter after all, but I worry about the only other family I have.  Scott and you guys.”  She smiled brightly. 

Stiles could see why his best friend was entranced with this woman.  When not being brainwashed by crazy family members, she was actually the perfect woman.

Scott smiled goofily at her before sighing.  “I’m in.  My mom has sacrificed so much for me, you know?  And she’s been really understanding about the whole werewolf deal.  And I know in your own weird way, you’re doing this for me.  Thanks man.”  He patted Stiles firmly on the shoulder.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile at his best friend, wondering how he could have ever doubted him.  Well he knew why, they just seemed less important at this very moment.

“Well now we just have to act normal and not tell _anybody_ what we are planning until we can make a clear course of action.”  Stiles explained.

“If it’s like the CIA, do you think we will get cool codenames?” Scott joked.  At least he hoped Scott was joking.

“Yeah, yours can be ‘The Furry Biscuit’.”  Stiles rolled his eyes playfully.

Allison failed to stifle her laugh.

“Hey!” Scott feigned his pain.  “Well yours can be…uh…” he stopped.  “I’ll get back to you on that.”  He nodded enthusiastically.

“What about school?  I seriously doubt they are going to wait for after graduation.  And college after that?” Allison frowned slightly.

“That’s uh,” Stiles stopped to think.  “That’s a very good question, and I’m gonna write it down for when we meet with them.  Anything else?”

“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to think all of this through for us?” Scott moaned.

“Hey!  I’m lucky if I finish dressing myself in the morning before I lose interest and start doing something else, you do some thinking for once man!”  Stiles realized he just put himself down a bit.  Oh well, it was only Scott.

“I just want to know how they plan on protecting our parents, and the pack.”  Scott sighed.

“Noted.” Stiles scribbled furiously on a napkin he found in the glove box.

“And I’d like to know exactly what the job entails.  Traveling?  What kind of creatures will we be going after?” Allison put a finger on her chin as she stared up at the ceiling.  “I’d personally like to expand our bestiary.”

“I’m sure you will get to.”  Stiles looked down at the napkin at the questions he wrote down.  He wondered how Derek and the rest would take all of this.  Hopefully he wouldn’t have to find out first hand. 

Scott started the car back up.  “We had better get going, its almost 9.  Mom wants me home by before 10 on school nights.”

Stiles scoffed.  “We might be hunting all sorts of magical and mythical creatures in the near future and you are worried about being home by 10 on a school night?”

“Them creatures hold no candle against my mom when she’s _pissed_.”  Scott muttered indignantly.

Stiles opened his mouth before shutting it with a snap.  “You have a point.”

They all burst out into a small laugh fading as they pulled back onto the road and back to their homes.

*                                  *                                  *

_Friday 11:00 PM Meeting Hall_

_-TA_

“Did you get this text too?” Stiles shoved his phone at Scott during third period physics.  It was Thursday today, three days after their initial encounter with The Agency.

Scott nodded without looking at the phone, tilting his head towards the other side of the room where Isaac sat.

Stiles sighed.  And of course Scott would think this part would have to be secret when clearly the text was sent to _all_ of them.  “Dude, I think _everyone_ got these texts.”

Scott just pretended he didn’t hear a thing Stiles said.

Right then.

They compared texts during lunch in the cafeteria.  Everyone’s text seemed identical, and all from a blocked number.

“How do they even know our phone numbers?” Erica asked, staring down at her phone with scrutiny, like it betrayed her.

“I just got a new one last week, after Derek smashed mine for texting during training.  New number and everything and I still got a text too.”  Isaac frowned at his new, less fancy phone.

“Dude, is that why you haven’t been answering my texts?” Scott asked, typing in Isaac’s new number into his own phone.

“They obviously have a ton of resources at their disposal, which worries me a little.” Lydia replied waving a piece of lettuce from her salad impaled on the end of her fork before eating it.

Boyd just grunted.  It’s like they had their own little stand in Derek.  Okay, maybe not little.  At all.

Scott chuckled as he read something Isaac texted him.  And what was up with those two now days?  They were a bit _too_ chummy, even for his own tastes.

Allison nudged Stiles in the ribs.  He looked over at her as she shifted her eyes towards her phone.  Oh.  He looked at his phone.

 _Meeting, my house after the pack meeting._ It was from Allison’s number.

 _What pack meeting?_   He texted back, a bit confused, he hadn’t heard about any pack meeting.  His phone buzzed just as he sent the message.

 _Pack meeting after school._   _–D_

Allison chucked as she read the two messages.

Stiles nudged her back, chuckling.

“Are you two flirting?!” Scott sounded a bit outraged. 

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “Yes, that is exactly what we are doing.  Are _you two_ flirting?” he shifted his gaze to Scott and Isaac, who blushed instantly.

“What if we were?” Scott put an arm around Isaac’s shoulder.

Allison giggled a bit at this before getting up and faking an outraged look. 

Scott’s face instantly dropped as she walked away from the table.  “A-A-Allison!  Wait!!!” Scott called out after her.  “I swear I wasn’t flirting!”  He tripped over himself as he tried to go after her.

She got halfway across the cafeteria before bursting out laughing.

*                                  *                                  *

Somehow the newest sprinkler heads were damaged yet again, flooding more than just the field, but half of the lower school grounds.  But at least the field was extra green and watered by now.  Rumors were that they were just going to hire someone to water the fields at this point and get rid of the sprinkler system altogether.  Stiles vaguely wondered if a certain sour wolf would eat the groundskeeper or something to get Lacrosse practice cancelled.

The pack meeting was rather uneventful.  Lydia had outlined some spells she was practicing as a sort of magical alarm system, that would be placed on their homes and warn them if anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there was there.  He texted Lydia asking if she would exclude Derek in his system so that the creeper wolf couldn’t scare the living daylights out of him anymore.  She simply replied no.

They talked a bit about traveling in pairs or trios for the rest of the school year, so that none of them were ever alone, especially the humans.  It was their own little werewolf buddy system.  But it was pretty much a norm to travel in pairs as Scott and Allison were glued at the hip and Lydia and Jackson never _really_ left each other’s sides.  Erica, Boyd, and Issac were usually close to each other as a given.  Which left Stiles, who volunteered to stick around Scott and Allison for the rest of the semester.

Stiles outlined a strategy he quickly threw together about how they could prevent pre-emptive attacks on the pack if they set some of the smelly traps around the Hale estate, as the enemy would most likely stake it out at some point in their tactics.  It was simple, yet practical.   Derek agreed mostly.

They talked a little more about it before the conversation got a bit off topic and more about graduating and colleges.  They all had plans to go to college and not everyone was staying as close as Beacon Hills Community College, but everyone had planned to stay within driving distance of their hometown.

Stiles couldn’t help but feel bittersweet about his decision to join The Agency, even if it meant protecting his father and potentially everyone in the room.  Still, the prospect of not being able to graduate or go to college was weighing heavily on his thoughts.

Derek had asked Stiles to stay behind after the meeting for a talk.  He waved a worried Scott and Allison to go on to the car without him as he stepped into the kitchen to speak with the alpha.

He grunted at Stiles from behind his mug of coffee.  Did caffeine even affect werewolves?  Wasn’t it like alcohol?  Would wolfsbane laced coffee or alcohol make them susceptible to its effects?  Or would it just make them sick?  He really needed to take his medication on a more regular basis.

Derek was rolling his eyes by now, seeing the familiar look on Stiles’s face. 

“Welcome back.”  Derek put down his mug and crossed his arms before sighing. 

“Right… you wanted to see me?”  Stiles asked carefully.  He was sure that no one had spilled the beans about their plans.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”  Derek asked raising an eyebrow.  And it was going so well too.  It was probably Scott.  He wondered if strangling a werewolf was a good idea.  Probably not.  Not that it would stop him from trying.

Derek sighed.  “Look, I could tell you were stressed out the other night, but I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you about it.”

 _Oh, this was about the other night.  Ohhhhhhh.  You’re safe for now McCall._   He narrowed his eyes at this thought.  “I-I was a bit worried about you know, my Dad.” He shrugged.

“Stiles.  I promise I-- we will do everything we can to make sure he’s safe.  We always have.”  Derek sounded reassuring.  He almost believed that he could make good on that promise.  But he just couldn’t take that chance.  The man in front of him wasn’t just the protector anymore, he needed protecting as well, he just wouldn’t ever admit it.  And woah, was he just admitting he wanted to protect Derek Hale?  Well, yeah he supposed that wasn’t an exactly _new_ feeling.  All the times he saved Derek’s life and vice versa, it’s hard not to, not to—care.  The man had been through so much, lost so much.  And now that he’s finally got something a bit more stable in his life, his pack, how could he let it risk being torn apart.  And okay, leaving wasn’t exactly keeping it together, per say.  But at least a majority of the pack would be safe for a foreseeable future.  Guess that’s another reason in the “do it” column.  Damn.  He hardened his resolve.

“Yeah, I’m fine.  I—there’s just lots of tests at school and stuff.  Senior year you know, can’t mess up the grades now, need those scholarships.”  Even _he_ believed what he was saying, which is why his heart rate was steadier than ever.

Derek looked at him, head tilting just a bit.  But he nodded slowly, convinced by Stiles’s argument.

“Scott and Allison are waiting for me,” he pointed towards the doorway with his thumb.  “Video game marathonnnnnn.” He feigned excitement.

Derek rolled his eyes.  “Possible murderous organization on our doorstep and you’re playing video games?” He scoffed.

“Well, pshya!  Gotta relieve the stress somehow and, masturbation is only healthy to a certain extent.”  He blushed immediately as he finished that sentence.  Brain to mouth filter, if there was such a thing, he was getting the surgery, pronto.  He rushed out the door before Derek could utter a response.  He swears he could hear something akin to a chuckle though.  He was smiling as he got into Allison’s car.

“Dude, were you and Derek just talking about...” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “masturbation?”

Stiles reeled back at the word.  “No!  Well, not really?  It was kind of a deflecting method and it slipped out.  No brain to mouth filter, remember?”  He ran a hand slowly down his face as Allison put the car into drive laughing out loud, clearly having heard exactly what was said.

The drive to Allison’s house was surprisingly quiet.  Everyone seemed to be deep in thought about what might potentially happen if they decided to go through with their plans.  And that was saying a lot.  For Scott at least.

They gathered in the living room as Allison said her father was out meeting an arms dealer about replenishing some of their arsenal.  The elder Argent had still been training Allison in the way of the hunter but unlike the rest of her family—by the code.  He did most things on his own though, now that Allison seemed to spend most of her time with the pack, even hunting with the pack.  He at least seemed content that she was happy now, something that was hard to get back after her mother passed away.

“Before you say anything guys, I want you to know that I haven’t changed my mind about this.  Actually, talking to Derek made me realize how much I really want to go through with this choice.”  Stiles announced to the other two.  “I realize it’s a risk, and that who knows what is going to happen to us, but at least if they make good on their promise for protection, not only are our families going to be hopefully safe, but maybe we can negotiate for the rest of the pack to be put under protection too.”

“Stiles—“ Allison sighed.

“And—and if we join its pretty much implied that they won’t be attacking us anytime for the foreseeable future, I mean we will be _helping_ them right?”  Stiles cut Allison off and practically squeaked the last part.  He couldn’t really bare it if they turned him down at this point.

“Stiles.” Allison stopped his rant.  “I was _going_ to say, I’m in.”  She smiled widely at him.

He couldn’t help but return the gesture.

“Scott and I talked a bit.  And you’re right.  It’s for Scott’s mom, your dad, and the entire pack.  It may be…unconventional, but if we can find a way to do some good while protecting everyone, I don’t see a down side.”  She nodded confidently.

“Pretty and practical.  You’re too good for Scott.” He walked over to hug her.

“Hey!” Scott interjected.  “You told me that you two _weren’t_ flirting!”

“Get in here you Furry Biscuit!” Stiles grabbed Scott by the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him into the hug.

“I don’t approve of my codename, by the way.” Scott mumbled.

“But you’re such a cute Furry Biscuit.” Allison cooed.

“I guess its okay then.” Scott said automatically.

“You do realize you just accepted a codename akin to something like a moldy biscuit?”  Stiles scoffed.

Scott’s imitation of a goldfish was priceless at that moment.

Stiles couldn’t help but to laugh, laugh till his sides hurt and his eyes teared.  And Scott and Allison seemed to follow suit.  It made him wonder if they would ever be able to laugh like this again.  But for now, it was okay to laugh, and let the worries wait for tomorrow.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, powering through these chapters a lot faster than I expected. I was literally typing this at my workplace as I waited for my shift to start. Sorry if you found this chapter a bit boring but it does get better, and more Stereky later. It's totally worth the wait, slow build is the bessssttt :D.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Agency is unveiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to not write at a bar where I get distracted by alcohol! So if it's a bit loopy, I'mma blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol. Yeah, I went there. Not betaed. If you want to volunteer let me know! :D

Tomorrow came all too quickly and way too slowly at the same time.  Stiles was stuck with that feeling when dreading something but desperately want to get it over with.  Something like a big test, or a doctors appointment, or laundry, or his virginity.  Well scratch the first part for the last one and change the word over to on.

School was normal for the most part.  Erica, Issac, and Boyd seemed a bit more on edge since the meeting last night, but acted relatively the same.  Jackson and Lydia seemed unfazed, save for excessive yawning on the strawberry blonde’s part, most likely from staying up late working on the detection spells.  A twinge of guilt settled in Stiles’s stomach.  They had really bonded over the past two years, they actually studied magic together at first.  But seeing as magic required a heavy amount of concentration, specifically the spell you were trying to do, she progressed along a lot faster than he did.  And it helped that she was apparently, you know made for magic with all of her immunities and all, a fun theory that was proving more and more factual everyday.  He really did feel bad about not including her though.  But it wasn’t something that she should get mixed up into.  Over a ten year crush aside, Lydia Martin was the smartest girl—smartest person Stiles knew.  And she deserved the future ahead of her full of Nobel prizes or a Fields Medal as Lydia was really secretly a math geek.  Oh, and one Lydia Martin in glasses? 

Hawt. 

He suddenly wondered what Derek would look like in glasses.  And with that, Curiosity: 2 Logic: 0.  Because curiosity was clearly the only thing driving _that_ thought.

Stiles knew that he would be lying if he told himself that Lydia would understand his reasoning and forgive him—possibly even thank him.  Because he knew she would be _pissed_.  Then again, he’s been lying more often than not now days, what’s one more?

Finally some good news arrived around lunchtime, when Derek sent out a mass text to them all to stay home tonight and try to get some rest, under the pretenses that The Agency would probably not try anything until they knew they were being firmly rejected.  This would free Scott, Allison and himself from trying to weasel out of a pack meeting that they were almost sure the Alpha would call.  Which was the one part of the “Become the Supernatural Men (and women, in Allison’s case) in Black” plan that they hadn’t quite figured out yet.  Scott named the plan, protesting that if he didn’t get to choose his own codename, he would get to name the secret plan.  It included the part in parentheses too, Scott even went as far as doing “air parenthesis” while stating the name.  Oh, that and he was still thinking of Stiles’s codename. 

“Become the Supernatural Men (and women, in Allison’s case) in Black” plan was decided after much debate on the topic.  They knew that this could indeed be another trap, or possibly result in another “test”.  And either of these would result in high levels of danger, being only the three of them.  So they decided they would take Allison’s Dad’s SUV loaded with weapons and other toys along with more toys that Stiles had invented, just in case.

And despite Allison’s initial hesitations, there was no question that she was on board now.  She even had gone as far enough to draw up strategies A through G, which was a lot considering the usual plans from the entire pack usually only went from A, to well A on most days.  They were more of an improv-pack, like _Who’s Line is it Anyways_ , but werewolf edition.  They had gone over each scenario multiple times, for Scott’s sake, and Stiles felt confident that no matter what happened they would be prepared for almost anything The Agency could throw at them.  He went through his own arsenal of toys and gadgets to pick the best of the best, but had to discard almost half of them, as they relied heavily on a certain magical strawberry blonde to successfully use.  Not that he couldn’t do _any_ magic, but the thought of depending on magic to be the success or failure-- life or death, yeah, he didn’t want that responsibility on his easily waivered concentration. 

 _Oh well._ He thought to himself throwing the last of the smoke bombs into his messenger bag.  He’s as ready as he’s ever going to be.

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

A letter would be too morbid.  It would be admitting defeat before they had even started.  It would be... practical at this point.  He had confidence that they would fare well against their adversaries, but it didn’t mean that it could possibly be farewell for him if things went wrong tonight.  But that would be something a logical person would think of.  And him and logic?  Not exactly on speaking terms at the moment.

Plan A required them to arrive early and stake out the perimeter before proceeding in.  They were wearing the comms they had used before as they parked in the same parking lot over two blocks away even though the meeting hall’s parking lot was completely empty this time. 

“North side is clear.” Allison reported over the comm.  They had split up to search the perimeter for anything strange, not that they really expected to find anything after last time.

Stiles though it was actually smart to hold this meeting in the same place as the last.  First off, no one would think that they would actually use the same place twice, but it would lull the prey into thinking they had an advantage this time, having scoped out the place once.  He gulped as he reported in.

“Southwest perimeter seems clean.”  Stiles rubbed his nose on the back of his hand as he peered around again.  It was really quiet, but then again it was after ten on a Friday night nowhere near anything that was actually happening.

“Scott?” Allison called over the comm.

“Yeah, South…errr…east?  Yeah, Southeast part seems good.”  Scott finally announced.

“Alright lets meet on the eastern wall like we discussed.”  Allison took charge.

Allison was actually a very capable leader.  Her training as a hunter did wonders for her confidence and she proved over and over consistently that she could be trusted to lead in a dangerous situation.  She was considered a leader of the Argents now, and a valuable ally and asset to the Hale pack.  And the controversy that followed was crazy at first.  But eventually it died down a bit, and when you considered the crazy aunt that seduced a teenager and then burned an entire family of werewolves that did not break the code, and humans alike, then consider the crazy grandfather who tried to turn himself forcefully and the mother who everyone thinks killed herself despite the truth being told to the hunting parties, yeah Allison, hunter leader, werewolf pack member?  Seems normal enough.

They all met up on the east side of the meeting hall completely blocked from the view of the road and void of any windows or doors. 

“Alright Stiles, according to your blueprints, there is a utility closet right on the other side of this wall, take your time.” Allison backed away from him to give him space.

So Stiles had agreed to use magic to try and get into the hall undetected.  It wasn’t a life or death thing, plus the spell he was using actually required one to jumble their thoughts as it would jumble the matter—the wall in this case, and create a door.

He placed his palm flush against the rough stone wall.  And concentrated on, well not one thing.  He thought about this whole crazy mess, lacrosse, his father, his mother, his friends, Derek.  His chest clenched.  He snapped open his eyes, shaking his head a bit.  What was this feeling?

“Stiles?” Allison asked, concerned.  “Don’t worry if you can’t do it, we will go to plan B.”  She walked up and put a hand on his shoulder.

He shook his head.  “No, I can do this.  Sorry got a little distracted.”

“Isn’t that how the spell works though?” Scott asked him, confused.

Of course Scott would pick now to be smart and observant.

Stiles chose to ignore him as he placed focused back on not focusing.  How is this his life again?

He let his mind wander on its own this time and felt the familiar surge of energy from within him as his hand slipped through the wall and he fell flat on his face.

Allison gasped as Scott sniggered a bit.

“Thanks ex-best buddy.” Stiles mumbled from the floor.  “Allison, will you be my new best friend?  A position just opened.”  Scott and Allison pulled him off the ground and dusted him off a bit.

At least Scott had the decency to look a bit sorry.  Allison smiled at him, patting him on the shoulder with a nod.

There was now a hole that was Stiles-shaped in the once solid stone wall.  “That should last a few hours if we need to escape this way.”  Stiles announced to nobody in particular.

“That’s plan E.”

Stiles and Scott looked at Allison in disbelief.

“Just kidding.”  She giggled.

Yeah, they were three High Schoolers breaking into a building.  Somehow this seemed less supernatural and more MTV.

Allison pulled a scaled down copy of the blueprints that Stiles obtained from her bag and pulled a flashlight on it.  They were in a small utility closet on the eastern side of the building.  Their destination was to get out, go down the hall and make a right, where there was a small maintenance ladder that led to the lighting area for the main room.  They could scope out any potential threats from there.

They made their way down the hall, quickly checking for signs of anyone or any _thing_ but so far, so good.  They found the ladder relatively easily and climbed up one at a time, the others keeping a lookout.  This was almost too easy.

Allison looked down into the room but didn’t spot anything suspicious.  Well besides the fact that the hall that had been trashed only days before?  Completely spotless.  It was like nothing had ever happened.  In fact it looked cleaner than before Stiles decided.  But it’s not like he had a really good look of the place when magical golems, werewolves, hunters, and a plucky sidekick weren’t destroying it.  With nothing too suspicious they moved on to the next stage of the plan.

Allison would stay up in the maintenance area and cover the room with her bow and arrow while Scott and Stiles went down to negotiate or spring the trap or take the test.  Stiles was surprisingly comfortable being bait.  Mostly because he was kind of used to it by now.

They headed back down the ladder and carefully navigated the hallways to access the main room from the main entrance.  Stiles stilled his breath heart pounding as the doors creaked slightly as they were slowly pushed open.  It was nearly 11 o’clock now and the room seemed to be empty.

“Do you think we got the wrong meeting hall?” Scott questioned softly eyes darting left to right quickly.

Stiles shook his head.  It was possible.  The text hadn’t been specific but this was the only meeting hall that he could really think of.

“Don’t let your guard down.” Stiles replied pulling a borrowed crossbow and a flask of green liquid from his messenger pack.

“This feels weird.” Scott whispered as the two slowly made their way across the familiar room.  They turned around slowly, back to back.

“Everything looks clear from here.”  Allison called quietly over the comm.

A relatively short woman wobbled into the room from the west side, balancing what looked like a large teapot and ten small teacups on a silver tray.  She placed the tray carefully down on a buffet table before sighing and wiping her brow.

“I have a shot.” Allison announced.

“Wait.” Stiles said holding up a hand.

The short woman began pouring what looked like tea into the cups before plopping down on a chair and taking a sip when she nearly spit out the liquid in the cup, ogling at the two boys in the room.

“You’re early!”  She announced gleefully.  She waved them over.  “Well come on over now!  Have some tea!”

Scott and Stiles exchanged looked before shrugging and carefully made their way over to the tea.  Plans A through G did not include a short woman with tea.  Abort, abort!

The woman looked to be somewhere in her late twenties to early thirties and was wearing a simple solid purple blouse and a long skirt that went down past her knees, slit on one side.  Her surprisingly high, high heels gave Stiles the impression that she was even shorter than she already seemed.  Her white blonde hair was cut in a normal bob, the style that Scott had so eagerly named the “soccer mom hair do” the year before as most of the mothers for the soccer team had the same hair style.  It was pinned up to one side revealing some soft looking green eyes that was seemed warm and inviting.  This had to be a trick, right?

She offered them each a cup of tea.

Stiles eyed it suspiciously before putting his crossbow down on the table and accepting it.  He sniffed it curiously, his eyes lighting up.

“Oh my Buddha, is this seriously organic green tea?”  Stiles failed at hiding the surprised excitement in his voice as he took a sip.

Scott let out a small whine next to him, probably expecting his friend to drop dead within the next few seconds from poison.

“You’re a Buddhist?” Allison asked over the comm.

He nearly spit out the tea at the Scott-esqe question.  And really liked the tea, didn’t taste like poison at all.  He really should have thought of the poison before taking a sip.  She took a sip from the same pot, but a different cup, Stiles scolded himself.

“Never you mind now, have a seat.  Where is the rest of your party?  I was told to expect nine altogether?”  She asked cordially.

“Well, um,” Stiles started when another person entered the room from the same western door. 

The surprisingly good looking man was wearing a simple black polo shirt with a single white stripe going diagonally across the chest with a pair of dark blue jeans and black and white sneakers.  His short brown hair was cut on the shorter side, but left to do its own unruly thing, his strong eyebrows framing his icy blue eyes.  He was on the more muscular side, but a bit less so than Derek.  He looked to be in his early twenties, which would put him just a bit younger than the sourwolf.  The eyebrows reminded him of the same broody wolf as well.  And woah, did he just describe this guy as surprisingly good looking?  And then compare him in more than one way to Derek Hale?  More things to file away for therapy.

Stiles casually put down the cup of tea and picked up the crossbow again.

“It’s just them, and you can tell your friend she can come down now.  We don’t plan on jumping you or anything.” He smiled widely at them.  “Not this time anyways.”

Was that a joke?  This guy was subjecting them to humor only two seconds after they had just met the guy.  Who did he think he was?  Stiles?  Stiles scoffed.

“My name is Ry, this is Bridgette, you may call her B for short.”  Ry introduced himself. 

Point for him, other creepy dude just made snide comments and alluded to murder.

“Yeah, you must be thinking of Gabe and his partner Ari?” Ry sounded apologetic.

And damn it he was thinking out loud again.

“Well if it’s just you three then I guess we can get started.” Bridgette said handing a cup of tea past Stiles and holy, when did Allison get there.  That chick was seriously ninja.  Must be hanging out with Derek, he thought.

“Aren’t you curious to why it’s just us three?” Scott questioned, scratching his head.

“Well, yes.  But our agency is clear about recruitment, that no one be forced into this.” Bridgette answered honestly.

“What about that stunt last time then?  We could have been killed, or worse.” Stiles tried to keep the accusing tone out of his voice.

“Something worse than dying?  Did they threaten to put cones of shame on your wolves?” Ry raised an eyebrow and picked up a cup of tea, before sipping it and smiling at the cup.

Stiles gaped for a second, unsure of how to respond to the clear dog joke.  It was actually kind of funny.

Scott narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t think you can really blame us for being suspicious,” Allison spoke up.  “The last time we met it was clearly not on peaceful terms.”

“I do apologize for that.  The testing committee is usually a bit better about announcing its intentions.  It’s just luck that you got _those_ two.  But not necessarily bad luck, since you passed.  Not many people do when they hold the exams.” Ry shrugged and took a long drag of tea, finishing his cup.  “So what say you?”

Stiles didn’t know what to think of these two.  They were like the polar opposites of the other two psychos. 

“I assume your attendance here means that you will be joining…” Bridgette trailed off looking through a folder full of papers before pulling out three sheets.  “Argent, McCall and, Sti—Stilin—“

“Stilinski” Stiles finished for her.  “Just call me Stiles.” He added in when it looked like she was trying to read his first name.

“Hmmm, I’ll have to call in and let them know the situation, but you can ask Ry here any questions in the mean time.”  She shuffled off earshot with the papers and pulled out a phone.

Scott was straining to listen in.

“Special phone.” Ry announced casually.  “You will only be able to hear the conversation on this side.  Never fear though, she’s trustworthy.”  He nodded.

“It’s not her I’m worried about.” Stiles mumbled.

“I’m perfectly trustworthy as well.” Ry replied matter of factly.

“The _other_ two, vaguely told us what your organization is about, but what are the specifics.” It looked like Allison got tired of the small wit war between Ry and Stiles.

Ry nodded at Allison taking a deep breath.  “Well we specialize in investigation of supernatural origins.  Normally it would be like you know the animal attacks that plagued this region a few years ago?  We normally have a team of specialized researchers that search the news for potential MSC’s.  Occasionally we get anonymous tips that pan out as well though.”

“MSC’s?” Scott questioned, even raising his hand.

Ry chuckled at the earnest gesture.  “MSC stands for Malefic Supernatural Creature.  Basically it’s like…” he trailed off thinking for a second, “a kanima, or anything really that goes out of control.”

Stiles thought of Jackson and what they could potentially do to him.  He narrowed his eyes.  He was going to defend Jackson now, Buddah save him.  He felt using “God” was overused.

“And what exactly is your policy on MSC’s?” Stiles failed to mask the sharp tone in his question.

“Woah there buddy, calm down.  I’m not saying we are going after your friend, Jackson, was it?” he put his hands out defensively in front of him, “our policy is to neutralize it, but through conventional means first, so if we can save them, we do it.  It’s only in rare cases that we end up being ordered to eliminate MSC’s that are not innately evil right off the bat.”  He softened his expression.  “It’s actually what drew The Agency to your little pack.  They noticed that you were pretty much doing our jobs for us in the Beacon Hills area and thanks to you guys there haven’t been MSC’s in a twenty-mile radius for some time now.  Well, none that we know of.  And they are pretty good about tracking activity in hotspots.”

“Hotspots?” Scott asked again.

“Hotspots, areas of intense supernatural activity.  Kind of like Sunnydale in Buffy.” Stiles explained.

“Interesting analogy, but not incorrect.” Ry nodded.

Scott nodded too.  “Not that I watch Buffy.”

“You totally do.” Stiles dismissed his comment.

Allison giggled.

“Okay so your ‘Agency’ doesn’t sound as bad as we thought.  But the main reason we’re joining is those other guys; they offered us protection for our families and relief of financial burdens.”  Stiles crossed his arms.

“Yep, its standard for all agents.  Familial protection and depending on the level you’re at in The Agency there is financial compensation that you are free to spend how you like.”  Ry explained.

“What makes your agency better than if I did it myself?” Scott spoke up.

“Well, you can’t always be there and we won’t be either as well, but The Agency employs a lot of powerful mages that can cast spells that can delay supernatural threats until help can be dispatched.  Its complicated when you get to the nitty gritty, but I can say I don’t worry about my sisters anymore, I know they're taken care of.” His eyes seemed to grow distant at the mention of his sisters, but he blinked and shook it off quickly.

Scott just nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“One last thing.” Stiles looked down at his feet.  “If we do this, we need guarantees that you will also protect our friends and their families as well.  Even if they don’t necessarily want it or need it, they still get it, okay?” He shuffled a bit in place, guilt heavy in his stomach.

“I can’t guarantee that they will agree to that, but we will bring it up.  Normally protection is only extended to family members,”  Stiles cut him off.

“The pack is our family.”

Allison and Scott nodded beside him.

Ry smiled.  “In that case I’m sure it will be allowed.  I’ll make sure of it.”

He couldn’t help it, Stiles was starting to like this guy.  And he inwardly groaned.  This had kind of been anti-climactic; he expected a whole showdown, some theatrics, badassery and a lot more screaming.  Not that he was complaining.

“Oh!” Stiles chirped, pulling the napkin from his pocket trying to make heads or tails of his messy handwriting.  “Uh, school…?  Travel?  Poptarts?  Oh wait, that last one was from my grocery list, sorry.”

Ry looked confused for a moment but opened his mouth to answer.  That’s when Bridgette decided to stride back into the conversation phone still pressed to her ear.

“Alright, talked to the bosses, they said it’s okay with them, these three will be part of your team.” She pointed to Ry.  “Normal compensation for their families and you will be starting as soon as possible, with on the job training.  I heard your school question by the way.  The agency has lots of connections, you most likely will be pulled out of school under the guise of an early admissions program, but you will be able to return for graduation with your class.” She smiled.

“Sounds like this isn’t your first rodeo.” Stiles joked.

“It’s not, actually.”  She dismissed the joke with a friendly wave of her hand.

“Wait, what did you mean ‘your team’?” Scott asked. 

“Each team is designated a handler.  Usually an experienced member to help out with logistics and be the line of communication between The Agency and yourselves.  Your handler will be Ry.”  Bridgette finished.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”  He actually bowed.

Bridgette nodded as someone on the other side of the line told her something.  “They will be making arrangements with your school within the next few days and your parents as well.”

“You’re gonna tell my dad?!” Stiles’s jaw dropped open.

“Only what we need to.” Ry said.  “If he isn’t aware of the supernatural we will keep him on a need to know basis and tell him what we’re telling the school.  The same goes for your parents as well.” He nodded at Scott and Allison.

Bridgette nodded one last time before hanging up the phone.  “All right, arrangements have been made, its not officially official yet, but welcome to The Agency.”  She outstretched her hand to Stiles.

He shook it with a half-smile on his face.  Ry took this opportunity to do the same.

Allison and Scott took turns shaking their turns shaking hands and nodding pleasantly.  This felt too domestic for what they were really signing up for.

“So what do we do now?” Stiles asked after all the hand shaking was done.

“Go home and pack a bag.”  Ry answered.  “We will be relocating you for the time being and probably be put on assignment immediately so you can start your training.  Since you guys scored high on the initial exam, they bumped you to on the job training so its don’t expect it to be easy.  I’ll be there with you every step of the way.”

Stiles sighed in relief. He was happy that they would be relocating; he didn’t really have the balls to face Derek, Lydia, and the rest of the pack.

“Oh, and you can’t let anyone else in the pack know what just happened.” Stiles almost pleaded.

Bridgette and Ry frowned.  “Well, no promises, but we can try to keep this to just us.” Ry said, shrugging.

Good enough for Stiles. “Thanks.” He nodded at them.

They made their goodbyes and left the meeting hall without using a single weapon.  Stiles had asked for some of the tea to go and were rewarded with a gigantic Styrofoam cup of green tea. He was nuzzling it in the backseat of the SUV.  Things would be okay.  The Agency didn’t seem like such a bad thing.  It was honestly what they were already doing, but with financial backup and perks!  For the first time in days he seemed to be able to breathe.

That’s of course when his phone buzzed.

_Pack Meeting tomorrow.  Important.  10 o’clock AM sharp._

Scott looked at his phone and palled.

“What?” Allison asked trying to keep her eyes on the road.  Scott read the text aloud to Allison.

Allison nodded.  “Just got to keep our cool till we get relocated, and avoid any incriminating questions.  Derek’s usually pretty quiet during meetings anyways.” She was trying to sound reassuring.

“The message is from Lydia.” Stiles announced.  Lydia, the one person he may have feared a little more than Derek.  He gulped at the thought.

“Oh poop.” Allison sounded genuinely nervous.

Poop indeed.  He’s thinking he should write that letter tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the fact that I started having Stiles moments after I started writing this weird? Like needing a serious brain to mouth filter irl? Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Powered this out just for all of you who actually like this story! I hope you like the ending of the chapter. Unbetaed, hell un-proofread even. When I finish a chapter I'm like, hell yeah, sleepy time now! Thank you again to everyone who is leaving comments and Kudos, I <3 joo all. :3

Popping an Adderall to help him focus on packing probably wasn’t the best idea. Stiles thought to himself as the sun rose on Saturday morning, and he wasn’t in the least bit ready to crash for the night.  Morning, crash for the morning he corrected himself bitterly. 

After arriving home after their _interesting_ meeting with Ry and Bridgette, Stiles had heeded their advice and started packing some essential things.  Then he had to unpack almost everything once he popped the Adderall realizing that video games, his collection of rocks from the fourth grade, and snacks probably wasn’t what they had in mind as _essential_.  And he may or may not have spent the better part of an hour drafting and redrafting that letter in case of ‘death by Lydia’ in the morning, which is totally a plausible cause of death.  They probably wouldn’t be able to identify the bodies anyways.  He now had about two duffel bags worth of clothes, books relevant to the supernatural, and tools that he used to tinker with things stowed away in the corner of his closet safely away from the prying eyes of sneaky room-invading werewolves.  Well, werewolf.  Only one in particular liked to sneak into his room uninvited.

Stiles was shaking his legs in bed impatiently, trying desperately to get some shut-eye before the pack meeting.  And truthfully, he was exhausted both physically and mentally after such a long day, even if most of the exhaustion was purely from the tension leading up to the main event and less so from the event itself.  He groaned loudly as he looked at the time.  It was already past seven.  The pack meeting was in less than three hours.  He violently kicked off his blankets and got up.  Heading straight down to the kitchen to brew some coffee.  If he wasn’t going to get any sleep whatsoever, he would definitely need some leaded coffee, pronto.  He sighed.  Oh well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done this.

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

Stiles’s leg wouldn’t stop bouncing up and down as Scott pulled up to the hale mansion a little past 10 o’clock with an unusually solemn Allison seated in the back, pulling absently at the ends of her wavy hair.  It was a testament to their collective nerves that Scott didn’t shoot him any dirty looks at all, as he was almost literally bouncing off the walls after about six cups of coffee that morning, leaving barely half a cup for the Sheriff when he woke up to go into the station half an hour later.  He had eyed his son suspiciously, the familiar look of suspecting foul play of some sort, but luckily the Sheriff chose to let it slide this morning and left before giving Stiles the third degree.

Scott turned off the engine with a sigh, parking between Jackson’s Porsche and Derek’s Camaro, glancing at the other two before nodding and opening the car door.

Stiles took a deep breath, before following the two into the house.

All eyes snapped to them instantly the moment they entered the door.  Stiles winced.  He realized he probably should have drove separately this morning so it wouldn’t have look as suspicious as it probably did right now.  But that was just the paranoia talking, right?

“Late.” Lydia said pointedly as she tapped her wristwatch, standing.  “Sit.” She gestured to the empty seats around the normal meeting table.

And Stiles hated that table right now.  He didn’t think he could feel such resentment towards furniture.  His eyes darted around the room quickly; nothing seemed really off, no plans on the wall to kill Allison, Scott, or Himself were openly visible, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.  Derek looked broody, but not any more broody than normal, more of a sleep deprived broody than an I’m-gonna-kill-three-members-of-my-pack broody.  And that _was_ a real look; he remembers it _vividly_ from when certain unnamed werewolves scratched the Camaro.  How does he know all the different broody looks of one Derek Hale?

Scott and Allison looked pained.  _Play it cool guys._    Stiles thought to himself.  But realized the hypocrisy in that statement as he probably had the exact same expression, as Lydia’s eyes flicked between the three.  He offered her a meek smile.

She didn’t smile back.  To put it as Allison did, poop.

 “I’ve called this meeting to discuss how the detection spells will work, and to plan what to do when they are inevitably set off.”  Lydia pulled a thick grimoire out of her bag along with a pink notebook with a fuzzy pink pen hanging off of the edge.

Relief was like a wave of curly fries that would never ever get soggy washing over himself and into his stomach.  He unconsciously let out the air that was clutched in his chest.  His stomach rumbled.  Damn curly fries analogy.

The werewolves in the room looked oddly at him, clearly hearing his protesting stomach.

“Sorry, skipped breakfast.” He admitted, flushing a bit.

Lydia dismissed him completely.  She moved on, opening the grimoire and her notes explain how her version of a detection spell would work, what she would need to properly cast the spell, and exactly how much time she would need to complete the spell on everyone’s residences, the school, and some other places that they frequented often enough to warrant the spell. 

Stiles nodded as Lydia went over the more technical aspects of the spell, albeit him being the only one in the room who was actually following what she was saying.  Lydia definitely knew this yet, but she liked to flaunt her genius if she could. It was actually genius.  He found himself blown away by her alterations to a basic motion detection spell into something only a bit more complex but extremely effective.  She had even gone as far as calculating a magical wavelength signal that would send them all actual text messages if the spell was activated, he never would have thought that possible, but then again, magic.  He wondered if there was a Nobel Prize in magical craft.  He wouldn’t actually be surprised if there was.

The conversation moved on from prevention to response when Derek took over the meeting.  The two had obviously discussed this beforehand.  He explained as they discussed what to do, where to go, and who to call (Stiles refrained from saying, “Ghostbusters!” at this.  Okay so he said it quietly—read as shouting it to the werewolves in the room).

Stiles found himself being able to breathe easier and his nerves settling despite the copious amounts of caffeine in his system.  Even Scott and Allison began contributing to the discussion after the initial fear of being torn to pieces wore off.

Derek nodded as they finished their exchange on the subject, grunting that if anyone had questions to ask Lydia.

Stiles did an inner summersault as he could see the light on the other side of the proverbial tunnel.  He unconsciously smirked.

“So, you’ve tested these spells Lydia?” Erica asked casually as everyone was shuffling around grabbing their items and getting ready to disperse.

“Well, yes.” Lydia’s eyes suddenly widened.  “Actually, I can’t _believe_ I forgot, but I tested the spell at the meeting hall.  I cast the spell as a trial run about two nights ago.  There was some _interesting_ activity last night.” She looked over at Allison, Scott and Stiles a small smile on her face.

This must be what a heart attack feels like.  Stiles felt the sudden rush of fear, anxiety, dread, and the absence of his heart beating at all, all at once. 

Derek’s eyes snapped over to him.  Damn his body for not playing it cool.  He let out a small squeak.

Isaac raised an eyebrow, but chose to ignore the noise Stiles made.  “Oh really?  What happened?”

Lydia responded with a wide smile.  “Well, the detection spell went off and sent me a text that there were six people in the vicinity of the meeting hall at about 11 o’clock.  The first arrived somewhere around 10: 15, two arrived more around 10:30, and another three at about 10:45.”  She was looking at her notes in her notebook.

Nothing to incriminate them yet.  Stiles could work with this.  “Must have been another trap then?” He offered steadying his voice as much as possible.

Derek narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him.  “I mean for that many people to be there, last time there were only five of them and it was pretty gnarly.  I can’t imagine six of those guys, that’s like six golems we would have had to deal with!”  He sounded hysterical.  Luckily for him, he always sounded hysterical.

Boyd rolled his eyes but let out a small chuckle.  “Probably, it was a pretty obvious one.” 

More cookies for Boyd, he would buy the man a whole box of Scooby Snax and ten steaks.  Make that fifteen, Scott would get jealous and want some too.

“Yeah.  Can’t imagine what that would have been like.” Scott sounded too nervous.

Stiles inwardly cringed, _Why is he even trying!?_   Scott was like the worst liar.  Ever.

Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly noting Scott’s lie.

“It’s great that we know the spell works.  And it’s very specific.  That’s good, great job Lydia.” Allison nodded eagerly, but not too eagerly, smiling brightly, but not too brightly.

Cool as cucumber.

Did Stiles mention that he freaking _loved_ Allison.

That seemed to distract Derek from Scott for a second.  Stiles saw his chance to interject.

“I think you should keep a spell there.  In case they use it later on as a base of operations or something like that.  Like an Agency batcave!”  He flailed his arms distractingly.

Derek rolled his eyes and dropped his crossed arms, turning to leave the room.

Mission successful.  And who says humor wasn’t a strong defense?

Lydia took a second to respond to his flailing.  “Okay,” she trailed off.  “I think that’s a good idea, actually.  And speaking of good ideas, I think it would be a _great_ idea for you to help me with the spells.  After school on Monday?”  She smiled deviously at him.

“I-I-uh, we have Lacrosse practice?” Stiles hadn’t mean for it to come out as a question.

“Oh I have a feeling the sprinklers will still be giving them problems.  And the lights in the gym.”  Lydia exaggeratedly fluttered her eyelashes at him.

Stiles gaped at her for a second, at a loss for words for once.

“That was you?!” Isaac asked incredulously.

“Don’t be silly.” Lydia stated dismissively, not breaking eye contact with Stiles.

“That’s not an answer.” Isaac muttered shuffling away dejectedly.

“I-uh.  Uhm.  I—“ Stiles was drawing a blank.  “Sure.” He decided on, kicking himself as soon as the simple little word left his lips.  He should have said he was washing his hair that night.  Never mind that he didn’t have much hair to wash, you know at all.  Whatever.

“Good.” Was all Lydia replied before picking up her stuff and walking out the door, Jackson in tow.

Stiles let himself be guided to Scott’s car by Allison.

“What just happened?” Stiles finally uttered about five minutes out from the Hale estate.

“You just agreed to help Lydia put detection spells after school on Monday.” Scott stated matter-of-factly. 

Stiles swore he could hear a hint of smugness in his voice.  He glowered.

“This could be bad.  Does she know? She kinda sounded like she knew.”  Stiles pulled at his short hair.

Allison sighed from the front seat. “It kind of looks like she does.  But she didn’t say anything to Derek or the others; it’s hard to tell.  I don’t think Lydia is the type to withhold that type of information if it affects the pack, but then again, she’s kind of the type to do exactly that for personal reasons.” 

Allison’s best friend analysis seemed to be spot on to Stiles’s knowledge of the enigmatic woman.  All the nervousness, guilt, and dread were suddenly back.  He felt sick.

His phone buzzed.  He ignored it.

Allison looked down at her phone, her brow creased as she read the text.  She raised her phone and tapped the screen.

“What’s up?” Scott asked, barely concentrating on the road and trying to fish his phone out of his pocket.

Stiles looked down at his phone.

_Paperwork is done!  Which is my least favorite thing in the world.  You will be relocated on Sunday evening.  Per your request only the discussed parties will be contacted.  Looking forward to working with you!  And pack some snacks! I get cranky when I’m hungry :-)_

_-Ry_

_P.S. If you need anything you may contact me at this number._

Stiles could suddenly breathe again.  The whole curly fry analogy, but a tsunami of them, and with special sauce.  Mmmmmm.  They would be relocated on Sunday evening.  Sunday, which comes before Monday.  He wouldn’t have to face Lydia, alone.  Thank all the deities, he would have to sacrifice a small animal soon to these unnamed gods and goddesses and Ry, because at this moment he qualified for that category.  He even used an emoticon, which makes him a-okay in Stiles’s book.  Oh and snacks.  Yep.  Small animal and maybe a medium sized shrine for this guy, seriously.

Allison read the text out loud to Scott.  He sighed.

“I guess it’s really happening then.  And so soon.” Scott almost sounded sad.

“Yeah.” Stiles leveled with him.

Wait.  His mind snapped back to Lydia during the pack meeting.  His eyes widened.

“What?” Allison asked Stiles carefully, noticing the expression on his face.

“Six people.” Stiles whispered.

“What?” Allison asked again, not quite catching the whisper.

“He said, ‘six people’.” Scott shrugged, turning back to the road.

“I don’t—“ Allison was cut off.

“Lydia said six people.  Six people were there last night.  But with only us three, Ry and Bridgette, that’s five people.”  Stiles didn’t know what to make of this information.

“It could have just been some random person.”  Scott shrugged, clearly not worried.

“I-I guess it could have been.” Stiles shook his head.

“While it could have been, I’m not convinced.  The entire area around the Meeting hall was deserted, and we scoped it out pretty thoroughly.  And what would a single person be doing there all alone that late at night?”  Allison chimed in using her clearly superior hunter logic.

“But who could it have been?  I remember her saying something about two people arriving together must have been B and Ry.  And the three that arrived together was us, obviously.  But the single person?”  Stiles had his hand on his chin scratching the stubble that was growing in.  Okay there was no stubble.  Only Derek had the stupid attractive stubble.  _Stop.  Focus Stiles._

“We’ll have to ask Ry.  But the only other person that would be there is either another member of The Agency, or someone who knew about the meeting.”  Allison deduced.

“So, it could have been Lydia?  Or something?” Scott asked.

“No, I don’t think it was Lydia, she wouldn’t give herself away like that.  At least I don’t think she would.” Stiles scrunched his face, trying to think.

“Well then the only others who knew about it was everyone else in the pack.”  Allison supplied.

Stiles felt the dread flooding back.  “So, someone knows.”

“Possibly.  But we can’t be sure.  There are just too many possibilities and unknown factors at this point.” Allison crossed her arms across her chest, turning back to the front.  “We need more information.  I’ll see what I can get out of Lydia.”

Logic and Allison were clearly good friends.  Stiles made a mental note to ask her how to befriend such a good ally sometime in the near future.

Stiles simply nodded as he let the sounds of the drive drowned out his thoughts.

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

After stressing over the newly discovered information and repacking one of his duffle bags to include snacks, Stiles finally let the exhaustion of the last 48 hours overcome him into a dreamless sleep. 

He awoke suddenly to the cold rush of air from his open window.  He looked at his clock.  10:23.  He turned over, seeing the red numbers reflecting in his mirror by the open window.

Wait.  He didn’t have a mirror by the open window.  The open window that and he clearly remembers that shut and latched before he repacked his bag for the second—okay third time.  He needed more snacks and didn’t really need the third hoodie he had packed.

“Gaaaaah!” Stiles squawked as he desperately kicked the blankets off and bolting up at the same time causing the tangle of linens to wrap around his feet.  He fell gracelessly to the floor.  Insert gazelle analogy here.  He was too tired to be witty.

Stiles quickly untangled himself and flipped on his bedside lamp, illuminating the alpha standing by his window. 

Derek nodded at him the corner of his mouth twitching abnormally.  The bastard was laughing at him.  Granted, laughing in his own Derek brand, but still, laughing.

“Damn creepy ninja sourwolf.” Stiles muttered under his breath.  “You broke the latch again, didn’t you?”

His mouth stopped twitching leaving only broody, and angry eyebrows as the equation equaling his face.

Stiles suddenly missed the twitch.  He winced, rubbing at his forehead where it planted into the hardwood floor of his bedroom.  He could blame the initial spike in his pulse on the surprise, the excitement of the fall, but now as they stood there awkwardly facing each other, he could not will his heart beat to slow down.  _Could it have been Derek? Was he the mysterious sixth person?_ He found himself suddenly wondering, not helping at all with the whole excited heart issue he was trying to cure.  His eyes nervously darted from Derek to the closet where his bags were hiding. 

Derek promptly turned around to look at the closet before returning his gaze to Stiles raising an eyebrow.

_Great job Stilinski, draw more attention to the things you’re hiding._   He rolled his eyes at himself before going on the defensive.  “What do I owe to _tonight’s_ home invasion?”  He tried to sound as annoyed as possible.

“Stiles.” Derek grunted warningly.

Stiles raised his hands defensively.  “I’m going to have a heart attack one of these days from your _friendly_ visits, and you’re just going to stand there and be all like  
‘Stiles.’” He did his best Derek impression.  “All broodily at my dying body, aren’t you.” He narrowed his eyes at the wolf.

Derek let out an exasperated breath.  “I’m here to find out the truth.” He acted as if him revealing the reason he was visiting was like giving away the ending to the last Harry Potter book two days after it came out.

Stiles stiffened at the word _truth_.

_Crap._

“Why was Scott lying?  Why were you all geared up at the meeting today?  You’re acting strange, even by your standards.”  Derek said surprisingly calmly.

“Two questions and a whole sentence?  You’ve been practicing!” Stiles said a little more snarkier than he had planned.  Sometimes sarcasm really was his only defense.

The glare he received probably could have left a burn.

Stiles rolled his eyes as he imagined scrolling combat text above his head reading _Immune_.  Too much MMO’s he inwardly groaned. 

“Why aren’t you asking Scott then?” Stiles found himself replying before he could really use the whole brain to mouth filter that he was currently missing.  Now it makes sense.

“Because I’m asking _you_.” Derek replied too quickly.

Stiles sighed.  “I told you why I’m worried.  We already talked about this.  And I had like six cups of coffee this morning.  Adderall kept me up all night.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. 

“Regressing from our words now?” Stiles couldn’t help but grin at his remark.

Derek scoffed. 

“Stop changing the subject, don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“And what exactly am I doing?”

“The same thing you do every time you don’t want to answer a question.  You try to change the subject with humor.”

“So you admit, I’m funny.”  
“You’re doing it again.”

_Crap._ Stiles thought.  He guessed he should have expected Derek to pick up on his habits if Stiles was able to tell the differences in his broody looks and pick out the different glares’ meanings by now, something that no one else could apparently do.  And why is he the only one who can tell?

“But you have your moments.” Derek grit out, shifting his gaze away from the boy.

Did the sourwolf just admit he was funny?  Oh. _Oh._   _Clever wolf. I’ll show you that you can’t derail my sarcastic defenses!_   Stiles opened his mouth to argue but stopped as Derek’s expression softened.

“Look.  I _trust_ you.  And now I’m _trusting_ you to tell me the truth.” Derek had to grit out the word trust every time.  “I thought you would have realized this by _now._ ”

Crap, that meant he’s being somewhat sincere.  Oh, and here comes the guilt.  Stiles held a hand to his stomach, the guilt pooling there almost unbearable.  He shifted his gaze away from the stupidly attractive multi-colored irises of the alpha.

“I don’t know what you _want_ me to say.” Stiles whispered.

Suddenly Derek was up in his space a hand placed steadily on his shoulder.  He could feel the heat from his hand piercing the thin jersey he threw on before passing out.

“The truth.” Derek whispered.

Stiles looked up into Derek’s eyes.  It was like _pretty_ things were looking into his soul.  It was just a teensy bit creepy.  He shook his head.

“It’s exactly what I said.” He steadied his voice. “I’m just worried about what these people could do to my Dad, and Scott is afraid for his mother.” It was the truth, it was the reason they were doing what they were.

Derek was still looking him in his eyes.  He nodded, lingering only a bit longer before stepping away.  The spot where Derek’s hand had been suddenly felt too cold, he raised his right hand to put it over the spot where it just was, his shoulder twanging a bit as the healing injury flared up a bit.  He jumped slightly at the sudden pain.

Derek reached out his arm but stopped himself halfway and looked away. 

“I won’t let anything happen to your father.” Derek raised his gaze and looked into Stiles’s eyes squarely.

_He said I, not we._   He found himself thinking.

Stiles nodded, he believed him.  And suddenly it was becoming clear why he was having random thoughts about Derek here and there at clearly random times to have thoughts about his alpha: when he was in danger, when he was thinking about other people who he thought attractive, doing laundry, buying window latches.  Maybe the last one was kind of appropriate and less random.  But Derek was a solid part of his life, but more so than just a friend or as his pseudo alpha.  He was mor--

No. NO.  Stiles could not be realizing something that could never, ever happen. Ever.  Not only was it _impossible_ , but also, he was leaving.  Leaving to protect his father.  Leaving to protect Scott’s mother.  Leaving to protect the pack.  _Leaving_ to protect Derek.

“Thanks.” Was all Stiles could offer Derek, his voice nearly breaking at the simple word.

Derek nodded before backing away towards the window.  “We aren’t done talking, and I mean it.  Nothing bad will happen to your father.” Derek told Stiles before leaping out the window, a small smile where his mouth used to be.

“Why would we be?”  Stiles whispered sarcastically to the open window, before plopping down on his bed.  He looked back at the open window, heart still pounding in his chest.  He softened his gaze.

_And I won’t let anything happen to you._   He would let himself admit at least that much to himself, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA. Don't kill me. Action lovers, look forward to some fight scenes in the next chapter! Thank you for your comments, kudos, and eyeballs.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles, Scott, and Allison leave Beacon Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know I promised some fighting in this chapter, but I ended up not wanting to leave a hole in the story about the Sheriff, and Scott's mom and they deserved a proper leaving explanation! I apologize for its boringness, but I feel it adds to the feels that you will hopefully be feeling later on! Good news is because I planned the next part already and had planned on putting it in this chapter initially the next chapter is already half written. So expect it either tonight or tomorrow! Thanks again for reading everyone!

“Stiles?” the muffled voice of his father called through his closed bedroom door, a loud knocking following soon after.

Bright lazy sunbeams were already pouring in through his open windows as he groggily stirred.  He distastefully smacked his lips together thinking he would definitely need to brush his teeth as he forgot to last night after unexpectedly passing out the night before.  His gaze wandered over to the window and his stomach clenched a bit at the sight. 

Another loud knocked stirred him from his thoughts.

“It’s Sunday, Dad!” he called out, pulling his covers back over his head.

“Son, we have to talk.” The muffled voice vibrating though his door sounded serious.

_Poop._

He would need to adjust his vocabulary away from Disney princess if he was going to be some secret supernatural agent.  He froze under his comforter.

“A-about what?” A million things were suddenly going through his mind.  From lying about werewolves to scratching the police cruiser two months ago, to Derek Hale—wait why would he be asking about Derek Hale? 

He could hear the heavy sigh through the door.  “Can I come in?  Are you decent?” He silently thanked his father for saving him from actually answering the question he just posed to himself.  He quickly unwrapped himself from his cocoon to see what he was wearing.  The same thing he was wearing yesterday.  Add shower to the brushing of the teeth.  He groaned inwardly at his teenage-like hygiene.  Oh wait.

The door opened moments later despite the lack of a response.  His father knew if he weren’t decent, the door would most likely be locked.

His father’s brow creased as he looked over a sleepy Stiles.  He rolled his eyes.  “How my,” he gestured vaguely at all of Stiles, “kid got chosen to be in a prestigious early admissions program is beyond me.”

“Early…” Stiles trailed off as his phone vibrated from his nightstand.  He grabbed at it casually, looking over the text.

 

_Heads up!  Told your father you were accepted into an early admissions program as a very, very last minute substitution for someone who dropped out.  More details later.  What you need to know is that he thinks you’re going away to this early admissions program for the rest of the semester, all expenses paid through that scholarship you applied for.  The animal shelter one.  Told him you don’t know you got it yet though.  He sounded happy to be able to be the one who told you, but a bit confused.  That’s to be expected though.  So congratulations!  Good luck._

_-Ry_

Stiles actually had to scroll through two texts to read the whole message.  Which meant his father was looking extra impatient when he finally looked up.  Lucky this was supposed to be good news for him so he was given a bit of slack.

“I-I got it?” He asked a little too confused for his own good.  He tiled his head slightly at the look he was given.

His father sighed.  But then he looked at Stiles and grinned brightly.  “Congrats, Kiddo.” He walked over to put a hand on his shoulder.  He looked at the hand on his shoulder, his mind flashing back to Derek’s last night.  But no weird sensitivity to heat, no weird feelings, no stomach flip, just the guilt.  Although that was probably a good thing—most definitely a good thing, this was his father for peets sake.

“They just called a few minutes ago, why didn’t you tell me you were applying for this thing?” The Sherriff questioned, but didn’t sound too angry.

Stiles let out a short nervous laugh.  “Just, didn’t want to jinx it.” He shrugged nonchalantly.  _Play it cool, steady your heartbeat._ He told himself.

Wait.  His father couldn’t hear his heart beat.  Werewolves were ruining is life.  And what else is new?

“Well, this calls for some celebrating.” His Dad stopped and frowned.  “Really wish they had given us more warning since you’re leaving tonight and all, but I guess we should be happy that other kid dropped out, eh?” His father chuckled.  “Since it’s so last minute I couldn’t cancel the late shift I have tonight to see you off, but we can do an early lunch.  How does that sound?”

His father sounded happy for him.  Proud.  Yep.  Guilt definitely still there.

He punched at his stomach under the covers a little too hard, grunting a bit, earning him a questioning gaze from his dad.

“Y-yeah,” He cleared his throat in a sad attempt to hide the strange gesture.  “Sounds great dad.  I’ll even let you choose the place and eat what you want, but just this once now.”

“Today is about you Kiddo.  You choose, let me know once you’ve showered.” The Sherriff pinched his nose in an exaggerated gesture.

Stiles shot him a playful hurt look.  He dubbed it “The Scott”.

His father just laughed as he turned around to leave the room, he stopped at the door, grabbing the handle lightly to close it behind him.

“I’m really proud of you.  Your mother would be too.” He shut the door behind him softly.

The smile on Stiles’s face remained in place, as the churning in his gut jolted at the words.  _I’m doing this to protect him._ He reminded himself firmly as he got up to grab some the few clothes remaining in his dresser before heading to the bathroom, reminding himself to pack a toothbrush before he left tonight.

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

Stiles called Scott to meet him at his favorite pizza place shortly after he got out of his shower and an extended phone conversation.  He explained the situation to Scott in case his father decided to bring it up with Scott’s mother, who was apparently given a similar explanation only for Scott to completely mess it up, and having to be told _almost_ the whole truth, minus a few details about any _life threatening_ information. 

Did Stiles mention Scott was the worst liar ever?

But Melissa was surprisingly okay with it.  Apparently Scott got Ry to explain a few things about the benefits and the reasons for Scott’s joining, and after threatening to kill her son, she showered him with hugs and thank you’s.  She understood that the main reason he was doing this was for her, and for the rest of the pack.  And She also knew the dangers that came with having a son as a werewolf, having known their little secret since the end of sophomore year.

Stiles wondered what life would be like if his father knew as well.  Would he be as cool with it?  Would he understand?  He couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, but he needed to focus on what he could control.

Ms. McCall agreed too keep it to herself for now, but expected Scott to keep up with his schoolwork and check in with her once in a while. 

 _Schoolwork?_   Stiles had silently questioned when hearing this information over the phone but pushed it aside as he decided to invite Scott over for the “Celebration Lunch” and tell his father that Scott had been accepted as well.  It would help the elder Stilinski to know that he wasn’t going to be completely alone in this “program”.

They pulled up to their favorite pizza place in Beacon Hills a little after 2.  It not only had all the toppings in the world, including red velvet cake, because cake on pizza?  How is that not awesome?  But it also had a full salad bar included as well for his father, who scowled menacingly every time Stiles would banish him to it.  But his scowl was pretty weak, although, this was mostly likely because he was comparing it to the 2012 gold medalist for scowling.  He would not say whom.

“So, Scott, were you a last minute addition to the program as well?” The Sherrif questioned, his mouth half full of a very _dry_ salad that did _not_ hid the slice of pizza under it very well at all.  Stiles would let him slide just this once.

“Yeah, totally.”  Scott nodded eagerly.

Stiles groaned, he specifically encouraged Scott to let him do _all_ the talking, since his conversation with his own mother had gone so swimmingly.

“Actually, he was one of the first that got in, the animal clinic he works at is running that scholarship that pays for it so they pulled some strings.  It’s how I heard about it in the first place.” Stiles quickly explained, shooting Scott a well-disguised _look_.

Scott shrugged innocently.

“Well that’s good, I’m glad you two won’t be alone then.”  The Sherriff responded, looking only a tad bit suspicious before cutting off the end of his slice of pizza and hiding it under a big piece of lettuce as he brought it to his mouth.

Yeah, choosing this place was definitely a good call.

“Yeah, Allison is comin—got in as well!” Scott chirped happily.

Stiles kicked him firmly under the table.

“Ow—“ Stiles shoved a slice of pizza in Scott’s mouth before he could finish his cry of pain, smiling at his father.  Luckily the Sherriff was too distracted trying to covertly eat his slice of pizza to notice the strange happenstance.

“Oh, that’s good.  I shouldn’t have to worry as much if she’s there.” The elder Stilinski replied through a full mouth, finally looking up.

Scott was too busy stuffing his mouth for the rest of the lunch to answer any more of the Sherriff’s questions. 

They lightly chatted and ate a bit more before the Sherriff excused himself as four o’clock came around and his shift started in half an hour.  Scott offered to give Stiles a ride, as the Sherriff didn’t realize how late it had gotten.  Awesome pizza can do that to a person.

Their phones buzzed as they waved goodbye to the sheriff after he gave them both a big hug as well as another slew of congratulations, and to look out after each other.

 

_Coming to pick you up at 10:30.  Please be ready.  Snacks are highly encouraged but not required.  (BRING SNACKS)._

_-Ry_

And this was _really_ happening.  He could feel Scott tense beside him as he read the message on his own phone.  He nodded as he patted Scott’s shoulder, Scott nodding back before grinning.

Stiles decided that it would be easier if he brought his stuff over to the McCall’s and had Ry pick them both up from there.  His mother was already out at work for the night shift, but called to give her own ‘good luck’s and keep safe’s’ to Scott and Stiles.  He sent Ry a quick text to let him know of their altered plans and got the okay shortly after.  They decided to kill the rest of the time playing video games and being lost in the things they probably wouldn’t be able to do for a while.

10:30 rolled around all too quickly as a sleek white SUV limo pulled up in front of the McCall house before coming to a complete stop.  The window rolled down, the light from the inside of the vehicle spilling out into the evening.

Allison looked happy to see Scott and Stiles as she gave a small smile from the backseat.  Ry waved them over to the big vehicle, a radiant smile plastered on his chiseled chin.

Stiles noted his honey-brown hair seemingly even more unruly than normal, but somehow adding to the overall appeal of the guy.  He blinked hard at this thought.

The driver promptly got out and took their bags to the cargo space as Scott and Stiles got into the back.  He wondered what the neighbors were thinking.

He couldn’t help but feeling a bit unnerved in such a flashy vehicle, they were supposed to be incognito.  But he supposed once they were on the road it didn’t really matter who saw the limo, the windows were heavily tinted.  And it was already pitch black.  Then again it was 10:30 at night.  He sighed as the limo pulled away from the McCall residence.

Ry was all smiles as he pulled a large duffle bag to his lap from the seat next to him.  The limo _was_ fancy.  He felt like he was going to prom is style.  Stiles in style.  Yeah.  His stomach fell a notch as he thought about senior prom, another thing he would be missing.  But it’s not like he had anyone in mind to go with _anyways,_ no one that would _say_ yes, anyways.  He distanced himself from such dangerous thoughts.

“Alright guys.  Some last minute stuff.” Ry pulled three folders from an organizer on the seat before handing it to them.  “Standard contract, you know you’re going to be an agent, you get protection, families, blah, blah, etcetera.  I would actually read it _before_ you sign it.”  His eyes shifted slightly.

Scott shrugged as he took his folder and signed it immediately.  Allison hit him playfully. 

“What?  I kinda trust him.” Scott shrugged.

Stiles chuckled.  He couldn’t help but feel the same way, well almost the same way, only a little different?  He also signed it, Allison sighing heavily before following suit.

Ry sighed a bit exasperatedly.  But gave them all copies of their contracts without another word.  He gave them a wry smile.

“What?  Having second thoughts about us?” Stiles asked playfully, but inwardly holding his breath as he awaited an answer.  When did he start seeking approval from this guy?

“No, no.  Not at all.  I’m glad to have you all on board.”  Ry replied unzipping the bag on his lap.

Stiles let out the proverbial breath he was holding.

“No need for our fingerprints and blood samples or anything?” Scott asked, confused, almost disappointed.

“No need for that.  We already have all of that, and then some.” Ry chuckled playfully.  Stiles couldn’t tell if he was joking.

“Anyways,” Ry seemed to brighten back up.  “Presents.” He dangled the heavy looking bag in front of him, “the only real reason to really sign on.” He joked with them as their eyes lit up at the word ‘presents’.

He handed Stiles a laptop, a sleek, black, extremely expensive looking laptop.  His own laptop would have wept with jealously with just a look.

“I hear you’re good at the researching and stuff, and although I will be assisting with logistics and the such, this will most definitely come in handy.”  Ry explained.

Stiles ran his hand along the top of the laptop before opening it.  He definitely needed a new pair of shorts after this.  It powered on and booted up almost instantly.  It was smaller for a laptop about a 13” screen and light as a feather.  Yeah.  New pants, stat.  He couldn’t contain the girly squeal he made as he tapped away at the keyboard testing it out.

“It uses a satellite data network not unlike a cellphone, but a lot more powerful.  It also has some bells and whistles that normal laptops do not, like a signal emitter and a scanner at the top there.” He pointed at what looked like a webcam on the lid of the laptop.  “It also gives you access to the supernatural files of The Agency.  Just need to create a password later, and use your thumbprint as your user ID on the keypad there.” Ry pointed to the thumb-sized glass panel at the base of the keyboard next to the touchpad.  He handed stiles a cord.  “Don’t loose the charger.” He said pointedly.

Next he pulled out what looked like strange flasks with different colored liquids on them, the covers all strange and rubber.  He handed a string of them strapped to what looked like a belt to Allison.

“Arrow dippers,” Ry supplied to the other two, as Allison seemed to already know what they were.  “She can just dip an arrow instantly in the top there in whatever she chooses on the fly.  That clear one is actually Kanima venom, very rare.”

“Thank you.” Allison said quietly, smiling brightly.

Stiles shuddered at the memory.

“And for you, Scott.” Ry handed Scott a bottle of pills. 

Scott looked confused as he accepted them.

“Wolfsbane extract.  Every strain of wolfsbane extract: burned and packaged for you.  If anyone decides to poison you with _any_ strain of wolfsbane, this will cure you faster than you can say pollywoggle.”

Stiles chuckled a bit at that word.  He liked silly words.  What?  He was four sometimes, he was not afraid to admit that. 

“Thanks!” Scott grinned, tucking the bottle into his pocket.

The rest of the ride was filled with more presents and more thank yous.  He wondered what they were going to facing if they needed all of this gear.  He only worried slightly.

The SUV limo pulled into a remote airstrip about a mile south of the small airport north of Beacons Hills.  Stiles recognized the area, even though he had only been there once with his father.

And if there was any question lingering about this ‘Agency’ being rich, it was now all very, very clear as their belongings were loaded into a rather impressive private jet. 

Stiles’s jaw dropped at the sight.  He would definitely be asking for a Christmas bonus.  You know, if they survived till Christmas.  The three of them shared incredulous looks as they boarded the plane, not able to contain the excitement despite the fact that they were leaving their pack to go face unknown threats.

Oh, and the fact that the rest of the pack had _no freaking clue._

Ignoring things was healthy. 

Stiles settled into his rather large and comfy seat on the jet as Scott, Allison, Ry did the same as they prepared for take-off.  
“Where are we headed, by the way?” Allison asked as they buckled their seatbelts.  They had been avoiding the question the entire ride here.

“Montana.” Ry replied after checking something on a tablet he pulled out of his coat.

Stiles couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. “Montana?” He questioned.  “What could possibly be in Montana?” 

“Our first mission.” Ry stated matter-of-factly as the plane began moving, the roar of the jet engines clear despite the mostly soundproof cabin.

And even with all the nerves running through him, the adrenaline pumping from the excitement that was today, he found himself getting sleepy as the jet leveled out thinking back to the fact that he thinks he forgot to close the window in his room.  He would have to text his father later to do it for him.  He had been lazily tapping on things on his new laptop after the plane had leveled out.  He pulled up one of the applications on the screen and typed in his father’s cell number. 

 

_Can you close my window for me?  Latch broke and I left it open this morning._

_-Stiles_

He hit send; amazed that he had Internet service in the sky.  He knew his dad would do it when he got home from his night shift somewhere around 1 or 2 AM.  He got a reply about an hour later, just as he was falling asleep playing minesweeper.

 

_Are you sure?  It was already closed. Latch seemed fine too._

_-Dad_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELS (setup). Hopefully?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has some interesting realizations. They embark on their first official mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finished this so late at night, I didn't even look it over. But instead of waiting to post it, I decided you deserve something after that last lame chapter, right? I'll probably proof it tomorrow. Zzzzz. Not a whole lot of fighting in this chapter, so once again sorry. But hopefully you still enjoy it :D. Disclaimer: I hold no grudge against Montana. At all. It's all Stiles, take it up with him! I proofread it now lol.

It was a testament to how smooth the jet ride was when Stiles awoke to Ry shaking his shoulder slightly having already arrived.  He yawned looking at his watch to see that it was god awfully early in the morning only around 4:00 in Beacon Hills.  He wouldn’t have had to wake up for school for at least another three hours. 

He looked around the cabin not seeing Allison or Scott.  He panicked slightly jerking awake in the process.

Ry gently shook his shoulder again and smiled brightly, jerking a thumb back towards the already open door behind his seat where they were waiting, looking just as tired as him.  He groaned at the smiling man with his hand on his shoulder, time seemed to slow down a bit.  He could feel the heat radiating from his hand.

_Nobody_ _should look this good in the morning._ He thought to himself stopping as he thought of one broody wolf who always seemed to look his best, even with blood and guts everywhere even _further_ confusing himself.  He promptly hit the snooze button on that train of thought and got out of his seat, struggling only slightly with the seatbelt.

Ry chuckled.

They had landed in another remote airstrip beside a large lake in Montana, he guessed.  They piled into a much less flashy looking SUV, and seriously what is it with hunters and their SUV’s, before pulling out to a dark dirt road that gratefully emptied out onto a Highway 35, or so the last sign they passed said so. 

According to Ry they had arrived just south of a Ferndale Airfield in western Montana, which would make the gigantic lake they were next to, Flathead Lake.  They were on their way to a town called Bigfork where multiple disturbances of the supernatural kind were apparently reported.  He seriously hoped they weren’t hunting a Flathead Lake Nessie.  He hated swimming.  Well ever since that whole pool incident with Derek and keeping him afloat for a couple hours.  Anyways, he disliked swimming.

Scott was yawning the entire time, fighting for consciousness, as Allison was diligent as ever nodding at ever bit of information that Ry gave them on their drive. 

Stiles would just ask to copy her notes later on.  He nodded off.

He awoke to Allison shaking him and telling him softly that they had arrived in Bigfork.

A _homely_ looking bed and breakfast type place stood in front of them as they piled out of the SUV grabbing their luggage and shuffling into the lobby sometime around 6 AM, which is the reason Stiles would blame his grogginess on despite it being after 7 AM, Montana time.  He wept into his pillow in his room he shared with Ry as he was told to meet downstairs in 30 minutes.

Scott of course had practically broke out in tears when the rooms were assigned and Allison ended up having a room to herself, Scott and Stiles sharing another, and Ry with a third.  Stiles had taken mercy on his friend suggesting that they just rent two rooms, Scott and Allison taking one and himself and Ry would take the other, under the pretenses that no, he couldn’t actually stop Scott from living in Allison’s room even if they weren’t assigned the same room.  Ry had raised an eyebrow at the suggestion but surprisingly had agreed to the arrangement without too much whining and begging on Scott’s part.

Their rooms were actually nice, you know, since he didn't actually have to pay for any of it.  The decorum was slightly cliché but that was the whole appeal of a bed a breakfast, now wasn’t it?  It was homey with a bit too many things in their room that could have passed as hand-crafted or hand-stitched but Stiles had suspected to find ‘Made in China’ tags somewhere or another on them.  He would have to take a look later on.

And of course Stiles had jumped at the chance to tell Ry to go ahead and use the shower first when they got to their room when he expressed wanting a hot shower, as Stiles wanted to sneak in a little bit more shut eye before he had to be attentive for the day.

Stiles still had his face still buried in his pillow when he heard the bathroom door open.  He lazily sat up on the bed rubbing his eyes before they focused.

Focused on a very wet, very naked, very defined torso.  He felt heat in his cheeks immediately.  Ry was standing in by his bed digging through his duffel for some clothes with a white towel loosely wrapped around his waist, his hair dripping slightly from his shower.  His surprisingly well defined chest, wet muscles flashing as they caught the light from the large chandelier that hung from the ceiling of their room off of his slightly tan complexion, he never would have guessed the guy had _that_ much muscle on him because of the way he dressed.  He rivaled Derek in that department.

Not everyone wears wife beaters and well, goes shirtless half the time as a fashion statement.

He picked up another t-shirt before frowning slightly at it and tossing it to his bed to fish out another, repeating the process until he finally seemed satisfied with some green shirt, he wasn’t really paying attention to the clothes right now.  He was more entranced with the trail of light brown hair between the defined abdominal muscles disappearing into the towel before him.

Ry seemed to notice Stiles staring right about now.

Stiles looked away immediately, clearly flushing.

“Sorry.” Ry said meekly, offering an apologetic grin.  “Too eager for the hot water, forgot to grab clothes first.”  He grabbed a pair of boxers and jeans in addition to the green shirt and disappeared back into the bathroom.

Okay so maybe it was a little _hard_ , oh god he just thought of an inappropriate pun, to avoid the elephant in his head now.  Yeah, okay so maybe he wasn’t as _straight_ as his father had stated due to his lack of a fashion sense.  But he never was really into labels in the first place.  He knew that he had been infatuated, possibly in love, with Lydia Martin for way too much time than should have been healthy.  And occasionally he may have found his head turning when faced with some extremely handsome, rugged, stubbly, broody—he was getting off track now, guy.  But it had never really been like what he felt for Lydia at a certain point in his life.  He could appreciate a dude’s body, but he never felt _swoony_ over him—any of them, he means.  You know, the weird feeling in his stomach, time stopping at a smile, sensitivity to a touch, a look, a glare.  Yeah, _never.  He rolled his eyes at his own statement._

Bottom line is he wasn’t sure what he was feeling now, towards the dude in his room and the dude that’s usually in his room.  Feelings are confusing.  Why must he feel?  He also had almost no experience in this field, both fields.  So what could he possibly know about it?  Filed away for later.  Maybe if he studied psychology, he could bill himself and make a fortune from the therapy sessions.

The bathroom door opened again, revealing a very clothed, but still slightly damp Ry, smiling in the doorway.

“Nothing like a hot shower to start your day.  All yours.” Ry waved a hand cordially at the bathroom doorway.

Stiles was probably—definitely still blushing.  Not only was he caught _staring_ probably drooling a bit at his new roommate slash handler, but he also just realized he was thinking drabbling on about certain _things_ in his head long enough for someone to completely dry off and get dressed.  He found himself bolting to the bathroom, cursing loudly when he closed the door, realizing he forgot to grab some clothes as well.  He opened the door again, heat still in his cheeks as he shuffled over to his duffel and pulled out some clothes at random and awkwardly shuffling back into the bathroom, Ry watching him with a smile from where he was laying on his bed.

“Smooth.” Stiles said to himself shaking his head as he began undressing to shower, determined not to let his mind wander, or he would definitely be late to the meeting downstairs in 15.

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

The stairs of “The Small Fork” bed and breakfast creaked slightly alerting the three people waiting for him in the corner of the dining area.  And really?  “The Small Fork”?  In a town called Bigfork.  Oh, right _Montana_.  Now it makes _perfect_ sense.

Ry flashed him a smile from where he sat, Allison and Scott practically sitting on each others laps imparted him a curt wave.  He froze for a second under the glare that was Ry’s smile.  He wondered what Derek would look like if he smiled like that. Was Derek even capable of smiling like that? 

Screw the brain to mouth filter, he needed a _brain to brain_ filter with thoughts like this.

“Sorry.” Stiles offered, not completely sure exactly what this apology was for, gaping at his roommate or being the last one to show up to their meeting.  Their meeting in an empty dining room.  Empty dining room in a bed a breakfast.  Empty dining room in a bed and breakfast during breakfast.  _Click._

“Oh my god, don’t tell me they _own_ this bed and breakfast.”  Stiles threw up his hands.

Ry chuckled as a response.  Allison and Scott looked only slightly confused at their exchange.

“No, they don’t.  But it isn’t exactly tourist season.  And we are in _Montana_.  In a bed and breakfast called “The Small Fork” in a town called Bigfork.”  Ry responded casually, as if this clearly explained everything. It only kinda did.

Okay, was this guy a mind reader?  He realized it could be plausible.  He was in some sort of supernatural CIA.  He made a note to ask later.  Or sooner.  Probably sooner, his thoughts were not exactly safe for work right now.  Or you know, _ever_.

“Before we get started, we have something to ask you Ry.” Allison piped up, sliding off of Scott’s lap, much to his displeasure.  “It’s about the other night at the meeting hall, when we first met you and Bridgette?”

Oh.  Clearly Allison was the only one in the group who paid attention and remembered _very_ important things.  He would need to make sure he didn’t do anything without her from now on.

“Oh?  What’s on your minds, shoot.” Ry responded casually, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning backwards in his chair, and kicking his feet up to rest on the table in front of him.

“Was there else there at the meeting hall that night from the Agency, besides yourself and Bridgette, of course?”  Allison questioned him, hunter instinct clearly taking over for a moment.

His demeanor hardened a bit at her tone, but he seemed to shake it off.  “On Friday night?  Not that I’m aware of.  Actually, I’m almost certain there was no one there except us five.”

“According to our friend, she detected a sixth person there who arrived earlier than both you and Bridgette.  And before us.”  Allison explained.

Stiles found a seat and watched Ry’s expression for any signs of strain.  There were some, but more of concern than stress.

“Look guys, one of my specialties is detecting others in the area, its how I knew exactly where you were when you arrived that night.” Ry gestured at Allison. 

And that was right.  He knew exactly where Allison had been despite their stealthy stealthyness they had used to sneak into the facility. 

“Specialties?” Stiles found himself asking.

“Well, yes.  We all have our special skills in this Agency.  And detection happens to be one of mine.”  Ry crossed his arms over his well-defined chest confidently obviously not willing to really give more on the subject just yet.

And apparently Stiles mind went back to that already.  He inwardly groaned at his brain.

“That either means our friend was wrong, or this person duped your ability.” Stiles opened his mouth, distracting his brain from wandering past certain layers of clothing in front of him.

“I’ll look into it.” Ry said seriously.  “It is a possibility, nobody’s perfect, not even me.” He sighed as he said the last part, his eyes going distant for a moment.  “But for now, my ability is telling me that we are alone for the most part and we need to discuss what needs to be discussed before that changes.”

Scott nodded as if confirming that he didn’t hear any nearby heart beats.

Allison looked at Stiles.  He shrugged as a response and nodded, both turning their attention to Ry.

“Alright.  So I know I briefed you briefly in the car, but I also know that _some_ of you weren’t really paying attention.  So, to recap.  We are in Bigfork per a request sent to The Agency.  They have identified what looks like a MSC in the area.  It’s estimated to about a class 8 creature, so the danger shouldn’t be high.” Ry began.

“Class 8?” Scott asked.

Stiles was glad he had a friend to ask all the questions he felt like asking, but was too afraid of looking dumb to ask.

“Supernatural creatures are ranked in classes to determine the danger levels, from class 1, the most dangerous, to class 10, the least dangerous.  A werewolf is approximately a class 4 creature; an alpha werewolf is a class 3.  To give you some idea.”  Ry continued.

“So a class 8.  That’s what?  A gnome?”  Stiles joked.

“Don’t be silly, gnomes are vicious.  A gnome would be like class 4.” Ry deadpanned.

Stiles gaped.  He wouldn’t be able to look at garden gnomes the same way ever again. 

“Anyways, you will be starting off on the lower end of the spectrum.  The exact creature has not been identified, but I’ve sent the available data to your computer Stiles.  It’s your job to figure it out and either eliminate or neutralize it, fairly straightforward.  And of course I’ll be here for any guidance and help, but I’m going to try and let you figure this one out yourselves.  I have the utmost confidence in all of you.”  Ry smiled. 

Stiles opened the laptop as soon as the bottom hit the overly floral pattered tablecloth.  He opened a small file labeled _Bigfork, MT._

Scott and Allison crowded around him to see.

There were a couple of files labeled _Witness Accounts_ and one or two picture files.  He quickly opened the Witness Accounts and read over the files quickly, Allison and Scott reading with him at their own pace.  Stiles suddenly felt claustrophobic.

“Any chance you have paper files of what you just sent me?” Stiles asked, looking hopefully at Ry.

“Yep.” He responded handing over a folder with papers in them.

“Thank you.” Stiles readily accepted the folder, shoving into Scott’s chest and sticking his nose back into his shiny new laptop.  Macky, he decided he would name it.

They quickly read over the files and viewed the pictures available.  He could see why the creature had not been identified yet.  It was vague at best.  How did they even determine that it was a Class 8 supernatural creature? 

“Probably a smaller creature, considering it hasn’t ever been seen really.  Mmm, not particularly _dangerous_ per se.” Allison concluded out loud.

“It’s killed someone though.” Scott chimed in.

“It sounds like it was more of an accident.  Guy follows something he sees into the lake, and then he drowns.  But there are no like weird wounds, he simply couldn’t swim.”  Stiles countered.

“I don’t think it’s a water related creature though.  The rest of the accounts are saying that things are going missing, animals going missing, weird happenstance, but all on land.  That’s the only water related incident.”  Allison was flipping through her bestiary on her tablet. Although, there's this one creature--" 

“But it was one doozy of a water incident.” Scott muttered dejectedly cutting Allison off.

“Yes, it was.” Allison said patting him gently before going back to her files.  “I was thinking this Selkie, it’s a seal-like creature that can take a human form.  It fits the M.O.”

“True, but no strange person accounts at all.  Someone would have reported seeing a strange person or even a seal, the lake isn’t exactly known for its seal population.”  Stiles scratched his head. 

Scott seemed frustrated as he flipped through the papers.  “God, its like this thing is a kid, it steals candy from people, and then switched the dyes in the hair salon place.”  Scott giggled at the photos of the victims.

“Not kids though—“ Allison stopped short, realizing what it was.

Stiles was flipping through some of the Agency files on supernatural creatures, eyes widening as he realized it as well.

“You’re a _genius_ , Scott!” Stiles patted him on the shoulder.

“Impressive.” Ry said coming down the stairs.

Was the dude eavesdropping?

“Less than half an hour and you’ve figured it out?”  Ry asked, “Well?”

"An imp.” Allison stated.

Stiles simply nodded.

“Most likely.  Great job guys.”  Ry flashed them a genuine smile. 

Stiles’s stomach fluttered a bit at the flash of white teeth. What is wrong with his stomach lately. He was seriously thinking he was contracting IBS or something.

“How did the Agency people not figure this out?”  Stiles questioned suspiciously.

“Guilty.  They did, but its all part of the training.”  Ry explained.  “But I’m sure it took them about an hour and a half.  It was originally identified as a Selkie actually.” Ry looked over at Allison.

“Great, now we just have to find it and err, _neutralize_? It?”  Stiles voiced wondering how exactly they were going to do that.

“Well, imps are actually akin to fairies, but primarily a type of demon.  Demons are naturally evil creatures.” Allison shrugged.  “They love to play tricks on people, and if people get hurt in the process they apparently find it even more amusing.  I think if we don’t stop it soon, there may be more fatalities.”

“Exactly.” Ry simply stated smiling.

“So, if they love tricks, why don’t we just set up some gigantic trick trap, something they can’t resist but to get in on, and then you can fire a few arrows, Scott can go all ‘grawwwrrrll’ on them, zip, zam, boom.  First mission done?”  Stiles was trying to imitate a wolfed-out Scott.

“Something that they can’t resist…” Allison trailed off.

Scott seemed to realize something as they exchanged looks and looked over to Stiles.

“What?” Stiles tilted his head.

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

And of course this is how he ended up hanging by his ankle from a tree covered in honey in the middle of the Flathead Lake State Park a little past midnight.  In all honesty it _was_ hilarious.  It was like a game of dominoes mixed with that _mouse trap_ game that was all gizmos that linked up to spring a trap.  Except you know, Stiles happened to be at the center of the gizmo.  The bait.  Which would have stung more if he weren’t absolutely used to being bait by now.

And of course it would be a little more funny if, you know, it was _an_ Imp.  As in _singular_ instead of the horde of imps that Stiles seemed to attract as he wandered around a tripwire, a pot of honey, and a bag of feathers, that thankfully misfired and missed him completely, shooting somewhere in the trees above him.

Stiles was currently waiting for someone to cut him loose so he could actually help as Scott chased around a small group of Imps, as another larger group chased him, as Allison sniped at them from a nearby tree, snagging about fifteen by now. 

Only thirty more to go, you know give or take ten.

Stiles heard a ominous creaking as the branch holding him up began to give.  Fear gripped at him as he flailed wildly.  He was a good fifteen feet off of the ground and a fall at this angle would most likely land him with a broken neck.

“Scott!  Allison!” Stiles screamed, looking at the three—no four Imps jumping up and down on the splintering branch, giggling wildly.  “Heeeeeeeaaaaaaaalllllllpppppp!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.  Yeah he didn’t feel sorry about neutralizing theses MSC’s, at all.

The branch broke with a sharp snap, crackle, and a loud squeal, as he careened to his death.  Well, careened right into the strong arms of someone.  Okay so he may have flattened whoever tried to catch him.  But he loved this person right now.  Like he would have their babies.  If that was even possible.  Because on top of saving him, they probably were now half covered in honey.

Oh, and apparently that branch loosened the bag of feathers from the trees, as it was now snowing feathers. 

He rolled off of his savior as feathers started sticking to his arms and face.  He spat as a feather got stuck to his lips.

“T-thanks!” Stiles said pushing up off of the ground, adding dirt to the feathers and honey on his hands, to find Ry sitting up wiping fruitlessly at the sticky honey that now covered the front of his shirt and jacket.

“No problem.” Ry answered getting up flashing a half grin, half grimace as he straightened out his spine.

Stiles gave him an apologetic smile before turning to the Imps.  Who were clearly still playing tag with the werewolf.  He would have facepalmed if his palms weren’t covered in honey, dirt, and feathers.

“Scott, lead them to the circle!” Stiles yelled as Allison gracefully dropped to the ground from the tree she was sniping from.

“Stiles!  Are you alright?”  She looked him over, stifling a laugh as the feathers now covered him pretty evenly.

Stiles simply raised a feathered eyebrow at her, invoking another fit of giggling.  Even Ry was chuckling a bit, innocently taking a picture with his cellphone.

Stiles couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

“Where is that circle againnnnnn?” Scott yelled, a pack of Imps chasing him as he ran towards them. 

Their eyes widened as they all registered the situation.  Quickly turning to run away from the wolf and Imps.

“That a way!” Stiles exaggerated a directional gesture to the small clearing by the park benches.

Scott turned and ran towards the benches.  Stiles quickly changed directions and headed over as the circle activated.  Demons technically couldn’t leave certain symbols if drawn correctly.  And although the circle was clearly drawn on the asphalt, the imps weren’t that smart.  They were trapped now, clearly not approving of the situation judging by the loud squeaking and grunting they were all making now. 

Stiles felt a slight pressure on his back as the asphalt met his face a heavy weight on top of him.  Ry had pushed him to the ground, landing on him in the process.  He looked up to see a fist sized rock crack on the ground in front of him.  Ry helped him up as Allison sniped the remaining Imps in the trees.

“Payback?” Stiles joked as Ry gave him a grin.

They spent the next half hour walking around the park to make sure there were no more stray Imps left in the trees.  Thirty-five total trapped, and about twenty taken out.  Ry made a quick call to have a pickup for the trapped Imps scheduled within the hour.  He closed his eyes breathing in deeply before speaking.

“That’s all of them.  I don’t sense anything else here.  Except maybe a bear, you know with all the honey around here.” Ry looked at himself and then over to Stiles.

The transport helicopter arrived sooner than anticipated taking the imps for relocation, Stiles told himself, not really knowing what would happen to them and frankly finding himself not really caring about the little bastards at the moment.  He would make a note to ask Ry sometime later what happened to the _cute_ Imps from their first mission.

He could smile though, despite the craziness, their plan had worked and they had not only neutralized the MSC in the area, but all the Imps within a five hundred mile radius, according to Ry’s sources back at the Agency.  Who would have known that Stiles would have made _that_ good of bait.  Well he was experienced bait, after all.

He had just gotten out of the shower for the second time that day, although he supposed it was some ungodly hour of the morning again, leaving the light on for Ry to use as he plopped down into his bed, exhausted, battered, and bruised.  He grabbed his phone from his hoodie pocket, grimacing at the traces of honey, still on the phone as the screen lit up.  23 new text messages.  10 missed calls.  6 voicemails.

He gulped as he skimmed through the messages.

_Stiles.  Are you sick? You didn’t show up for AP English.  Don’t think this gets you out of helping me spell the school._

_-Lydia_

_Stilinski Lydia wnts to knw where the hell u are.  Get ur lazy ass out of bed and call one of us bck._

_-Jackson_

_Stiles, Lydia is freaking scary.  Call her ASAP._

_-Isaac_

_R Scott and Allison with you?  Call or txt us bck._

-Erica 

_Stiles._

_-Boyd_

_Argent and the tumor attched to her hip w/u?  Lydia is pissed btw, I’m not gng to ur funeral._

_-Jackson_

_Stiles.  Where the HELL are you._

_-Derek_

He could practically feel the crimson red alpha eyes burning furiously as he read that last text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a huge test on Wednesday, so no promises for updates till that evening. Don't kill me. :D Killing = No updates!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia and Derek collaborate to find out where the trio has gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo this chapter is just almost completely feels again? But hopefully of the good kind! This chapter is dedicated to Carista, hopefully these feels will help you feels something besides the sick feels. Feels. Unbetaed, unproofread even! Enjoy!

His window was still open.  That was the first thing Derek noticed as he scaled the side of the Stilinski residence at around 11:50 on Sunday night.  That and he couldn’t hear the erratic heartbeat that was Stiles Stilinski anywhere near the premises.  The slow, sluggish heart beat that belonged to a sleeping Ms. Baker next door, yes, but it was oddly quiet without the accompaniment of the pitter patter, pitter patter that signified that indeed Stiles had taken his Adderall that evening all the times he had swung by before.  On strictly pack business.

Which sort of was the reason he was here tonight.  The last visit was, _interesting_ to say the least.  He had openly admitted to trusting Stiles which is actually the first time he had admitted, openly, to trusting _anyone_ since well, _Kate_.  Which was best idea _ever_. 

And did he just have an inner monologue that involved sarcasm?  Too much time around Stiles.

Anyways, he was unsatisfied with the answers he had gotten, the feeling that there was something else, something else the kid was hiding, was nagging at him, much to his displeasure in the matter, and he needed to get to the bottom of it.

Derek had a leg in the window when he noticed the next weird thing about the teenager’s room.  It smelled funny.  And not in the weird barbeque deodorant scent that he had been picking up from the teen as of late, but in a weirdly sterile kind of way.  Something was missing from the room.  Well besides one Stiles Stilinski, and where was that kid at nearly midnight on a School night.

He inwardly groaned at his somewhat new parent-like thinking. 

But he knew he sort of cared, cared about his pack at least.  He just didn’t know when the pure annoyance he felt from Scott’s friend with A.D.D. turned into something somewhat funny in its own way, and when it turned from having to rescue the sometimes really, _really,_ dumb kid to wanting to rescue the boy.  Even if it was just to pay him back for all the times he had been rescued himself by the spaz.  And somewhere during all that messes of rescuing and missions and other strange things, Stiles became just that.  Pack.

Which _is_ the reason he’s here.  Someone in his pack is acting strange and he needs to find out why.  Simple.  The fact that he could have just as easily, probably easier, you know since that kid can’t lie to save his life, had gone to Scott about the matter is something he would rather not think about at this moment, or perhaps ever.  And would also be the reason he went to the Home Depot and bought a simple window latch, never mind that he chose one that he could totally unlatch from the outside without breaking the damned thing.  Yeah, he was repairing his pack’s window that he broke, multiple times.  It was the right thing to do.

After he finished the quick repair, he looked around the room deciding if he wanted to scare the poor kid from behind the door or from beside his life sized cutout of the first Doctor Who by the closet.  He only knew Doctor Who because Stiles had insisted he watch it over and over until he finally caved and watched the first season on Netflix last summer.  And he may have started on the next season, or three.  He fondly remembers when his life had just consisted of finding something to eat and working out.  He missed those days.

Derek walked over to the closet absentmindedly nudging the dresser as he passed by.  It wobbled in place from that tiny nudge.  He pulled open a drawer.   It was practically empty. 

_What?_

He pulled open another, and another, to find the same thing.  A pinched feeling began to form in his gut as he looked more carefully around the room finding certain things that Stiles’ loved to be missing or misplaced in the room.  What was going on here?  He pushed down the growl that threatened to escape from his throat, a soft red hue cast on the room before him signaling that his high beams were now on.

_Possibly staying at a friend’s house? Scott’s?_

He tried desperately not to jump to conclusions, going as far as ignoring a few major details he was beginning to notice about the past week.  If his clothes were gone, he was not indeed kidnapped, but went somewhere for the evening, or the week.  Judging by the amount of clothes missing, maybe a month. 

And a month without Stiles? 

That would be just fine and dandy with Derek.  His own heartbeat stuttered at this thought.  At least when he lied to himself, he could choose to not call himself out on it.  He shook the thoughts from his head, as he turned to the window to leave.  The boy would clearly not be back, not tonight at least.  He made a mental note to ask Scott or Lydia about it tomorrow, but he wasn’t worried.  He knew the kid was too good hearted for his own good, and wouldn’t leave his father alone or do something dumb like run away.  So he climbed back out the window closing it and latching it from the outside using his claws.  The pinched feeling in his gut was still there.

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

Monday morning came and went quickly as Derek spent most of it trying to get his mind of what he discovered last night at Stiles’s house.  He went for a run, worked out a bit, went on another run, debated texting Lydia about what he found, worked out some more, and just for a change of pace he worked out upstairs instead of downstairs.  Productive morning if he does say so himself.

But now it was a little past 11:30 and he still hadn’t brought himself to texting Lydia or Scott about his little discovery at Stiles’s.  He sighed.  When did he get so indecisive about things?  Normally it was growl the order, whether it was to himself or the others, and it would get done.

He nodded to himself as he growled the order to make the call.  Rather the text and opened his contacts to one Lydia Martin, when his phone buzzed.

 

_Stiles didn’t show up to school today.  Check on him for me?  I want to know how sick he actually is before I kill him myself for trying to get out of helping me today.  Thank you._

_-Lydia_

What?  Stiles wasn’t in school?  There is no way the Sheriff would allow something like that, unless Stiles had come home late and was sick?  Or maybe he was in the hospital last night?  His heart rate began to rise at that thought.  And it wasn’t annoyance like it should have been.  It was worry.  He shot Lydia a quick text back saying he would look into it, and to find Scott and question him as well.  If Scott knew anything at all, Lydia could get it out of him in three seconds flat.

He got into his Camaro not completely sure where he was headed at first or what he was even looking for.  But he decided the nagging feeling in the back of his mind would probably have him start with the meeting hall.  He growled as his engine roared to life and he punched it out of the Hale estate. 

A text from Lydia caught his attention as his car kicked up the gravel on the dirt road.

_Scott and Allison aren’t in School today either.  Called a pack meeting after School._

_-Lydia_

 Forget worried, Derek was _pissed._

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

The members of the Hale pack shuffled awkwardly into the mansion somewhere around 4 PM.  All the members save three.  Derek’s initial investigation led him back to the meeting hall where unfortunately it was clean.  As in spotless.  There was no evidence that their fight there had even taken place and any scents that would have been left over from the activity that Lydia had mentioned on Friday, were long gone or scrubbed.  It’s okay though; he left them a nice fist sized hole in the wall as a parting gift anyways.

Derek let a growl of impatience out as the slow shuffling turned into hurried shuffling. His eyes narrowed at the three empty chairs. 

“Talk.” Derek grunted out.

“I didn’t do it.” Issac immediately said.  He looked guilty.

“ _What_ didn’t you do?” Derek could smell the fear coming off of the wolf.  He forced himself to calm down a bit; taking his frustrations out on the rest of his pack would not end well.

“The scratch on the Camaro, I swear I didn’t do it.  I saw it on the way in.” Isaac finished meekly, shrinking further down into his seat at every word. 

And the reminder that he had somehow scratched his own car during his manhunt around town only made him angrier.  He could feel the air in the room stiffen as his eyes lit up.  He thought of something funny.  That joke about the ducks in the bar.  Or was it a Lion and a Giraffe.  That one was surprisingly good, Stiles had—what?  When did his anchor become humor?  It didn’t matter though, he found himself calming down regardless.  His eyes returned to normal as the heartbeats in the room steadied out.

Lydia took over, clearly noticing the lack of composition of the alpha at the moment.

“No, we need to know if anybody knows the whereabouts of Stiles, Allison, and Scott.  They weren’t in school today, and they haven’t responded to _any_ of my texts.”  She sounded more upset about the latter part of her explanation.  Apparently nobody text-stands-up Lydia Martin.

“If anyone knows _anything_ , spill it.” She slammed her hand on the table abruptly; causing everyone in the room, save for Derek, to jump in their seats.

“Last time I saw them was at our _last_ pack meeting.” Erica sounded almost annoyed.

“Same.” Boyd shrugged.  “Sorry.” He tacked on at the combined glares of Lydia and Derek, giving an apologetic look.

“This is going nowhere.” Lydia sighed, getting up.  She looked to Derek, clearly admonishing command.

“Well, if you find out anything, contact me immediately.  _Look. For. Them._ ” Derek dismissed the meeting with a curt nod.

“We need to talk.” Lydia whispered to him.  “Alone.”

Jackson gave her a concerned look.

Derek just nodded and walked to the back of the house.  Once they were out of earshot of the rest of the pack, Lydia spoke.

“I honestly do not know what’s going on.  And that’s a rare thing.”  She sounded upset.

He raised an eyebrow at her.  “You sounded like you knew something was going on at the last meeting, with your spells at the meeting hall.  I checked it out, it’s clean though.”

“Well, I knew there was a meeting even without us, but it makes no sense.  Why would they kidnap Scott and Allison?  I mean Stiles I can understand; he’s like easily kidnappable, but Scott and Allison?  Not so much.”  She shook her head.

Derek found himself growling at the mention of someone kidnapping Stiles.  He stopped when Lydia gave him a _look_.

Derek crossed his arms defensively over his chest, but averted his gaze downwards.  “I was at Stiles’s last night.”

She gave him an incredulous, yet knowing, look.

“I was going to ask him what was going on.  But he wasn’t there.  And there was a lot of his clothes and belongings missing.  I don’t think he was kidnapped.”  The pinched feeling returned for a reprisal role.  He sighed heavily.  “I think he left.”

Lydia looked like she had been struck.  Her mouth was half open in a retort when she stopped.  “He, _left?_ And you only decide now to tell me?”

Derek just grunted. 

“Wait, no calls from his dad, Scott’s mom, or anything.  I’m going get to the bottom of this.” The familiar look of when Lydia Martin decided something and was never going to let it go was painted across her face.  He remembers Stiles calling it ‘The Kraken’.  He _almost_ laughed.

“I’ll let you know what I find out.”  She simply stated before _hmph-_ ing and stomping off back towards the house.  Which left Derek standing in the forest, not knowing what his next move was.

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

Derek was actually sore by the time he had finished his seventeenth? Workout for the day.

What?  
He was not deflecting.

His phone rang.  It was Lydia.

“I’m outside.” She said before hanging up.

Derek walked over to the door and unlocked it.  Jackson and Lydia were standing on his porch. He silently wondered if Jackson actually went anywhere without Lydia supervision.

She smiled before pushing past him and plopping on the couch.  The couch that Stiles had so consistently badgered him to buy for months after some of the renovations were finished.  To his defense it was leather and extremely comfortable.  But the reasoning that if any of the pups peed on it, it would be easier to clean, yeah, groaned at the memory.

“So, I have some confusing news.” She said looking him in the eye.

Derek nodded before crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

“Stiles got accepted into an ‘early admissions’ program as a very last minute substitute, and that’s the story that Scott’s mom told me too about Scott and Allison as well.  But she seemed a bit off while telling it.  Like she was hiding something.”  Lydia narrowed her eyes.  “So initially I thought, it’s just something they told their parents to like run away or something.  But get this.” She pulled some folded up papers out of the clutch she was carrying handing them to Derek.

“I had Jackson’s friend Danny hack into the school system, and its real.  They are actually in an early admissions program.  Which just happened to have a start date of today.  So why wouldn’t they tell us this, if its real?”  She gave him time to look over the documents

He really couldn’t tell what’s what but it seemed to be legitimate.

“So do you think they’re being forced into something?”  Derek was grasping at straws.

“That’s what I thought too at first.  But then I decided that I wasn’t going to let a few people ruin my plans for the day so I returned to the school to get started on that detection spell that we had planned.  The one Stiles was supposed to help me with.” She couldn’t really hide the bitterness in her voice by now.  But her eyes snapped to him.  “Do you know what I found?”

Derek knew Lydia liked to play this game, but he didn’t really have the patience for it right now.  He growled.

“Just tell me Lydia.” Derek’s eyes flashed.

She looked taken a back for only half a second.  “Don’t get all angry with me, I did all of this while _you_ were probably working out all day.” She gave him a one part pointed nine parts sass look.

He sighed.  “What did you find, Lydia.” He said in the most monotonous tone he could muster at the moment.

“There is already a spell there.  And not just a detection spell or something of that caliber, it’s a powerful spell I spent a good part of two hours just analyzing the spell form.”

Derek perked up at this information.  “What does the spell do?  Can you dispel it?”

“Well even if I could, which I totally could if you gave me enough time and resources, I wouldn’t.  It’s an amazing protection spell.  It makes it so that if the people within the restrictions are ever in danger, don’t ask me what the requirements for ‘danger’ is, its caster specific, then the spell activates and actually suspends animation within the circle while sending out a signal for help.”  She looked excited explaining the specifics.  “So I just took a little magical sample of the spell and analyzed that the targets of the spell seem to be,” she trailed off looking up.  “Us.”

Derek pushed himself off of the doorframe.  “Like, protecting us?”  He only looked a little bit lost now.

“Yes.”  Lydia answered firmly.

“Stiles?” Derek immediately questioned, being the only other one in the group that even dabbled in magic.

“Too powerful of a spell.  He can barely levitate feathers, let alone suspend animation.  It gets better.  I noticed that when I got home there was that same spell cast around my _entire_ home.  And it most definitely was not there this morning.” She paused a second before looking around. "It's here too." She closed her eyes. "Yep. Definitely a spell on your little hobo home."

He ignored the hobo comment. “Wait, so what does this mean exactly.” Derek didn’t know what to conclude.  Some of his pack disappears and he expects a fight, to have to fight to get them back, fight to protect whoever is left.  But this is strange, it seems like someone or something is protecting all of them and with powerful magic that they themselves would never have access to, not anytime soon anyways.

“It means, and this is _just a theory,_ mind you, but remember how Scott said he wanted to protect his mother, and Stiles immediately jumped in to say how we could do it easily?” 

Derek vaguely remembers this, he was too distracted by an irregular heartbeat to hear the words that were going on at that moment.  _Oh._

“He was lying.”  Derek uttered softly.

“Not exactly.  He likes to use these tactics so you furries won’t know if he is telling the truth.  He was twisting his words ‘we’ can do it includes himself, and I’m guessing Scott and Allison.  If he believes what he’s saying then his tells shouldn’t give him away.  He confessed one drunken night during a rant about how you don’t appreciate his _genius_.”  She absently waved a hand at him.

And that, that was actually smart.  Too smart.  He would need to drill it into that kid’s tiny, annoying skull that he doesn’t need to lie to him, not anymore.  But why exactly?  He questioned himself.

“That idiot.” Derek muttered.  “So you don’t think it’s Scott?  I had the feeling he was covering for someone when I visited him the other night.”

“Do you think Scott is capable of this sort of deception?  The boy can’t even lie about what he had for breakfast, let alone this whole master scheme.  Allison is capable, but she’s too nice, she would never ask them to do this for her or even for Scott.  No, it had to be Stiles’s idea.” She narrowed her eyes dangerously.  He almost felt sorry for the kid.  Almost.

“But wasn’t he just trying to protect his dad, Scott’s mom, and well, us?” Jackson finally spoke up instead of resuming his role as a decorative piece of useless furniture.

Derek and Lydia shot him looks.

“No need for death glares, sheesh.” He rolled his eyes and resumed his furniture role.

And as much as Derek hated to admit it, Jackson was right.  He had been telling the truth about being worried about his father, and apparently he had made some deal to protect all of them.  Still though, _idiot._

“We have to get them back.  If they joined The Agency, it means they are going to be in dangerous situations.  And while I have high hopes that they can handle themselves, for how long?” Lydia prompted; she looked down as she thought a strange solemn look on her face.  “How long can Stiles survive without me there to back him up?”

Derek softened his gaze.  He knew Stiles was like her partner in crime, sometimes more so than Jackson.  While he was her soul mate, as _they_ put it, Stiles was her friend mate?  He was the only one in the group that understood her, and _really_ understood her in almost ever sense, and he was the only one she could collaborate with in her quest to further her magical studies.  They were each other’s Robin’s and Batman’s at the same time.  Weird analogies meant that needed to spend less time with Stiles—although it seemed like now that wouldn’t be a problem.  He unconsciously frowned at this thought.

“We do.” Derek agreed nodding, he did not like the idea of Stiles dying, of anyone in his pack dying.  Not again.  “Where do we start?”

“The whole early admissions thing is a cover.  We can’t trust anything that says.”  Lydia began before looking him in the eye.  “Melissa McCall.  She knows _something,_ we just have to get it out of her.”

“Tomorrow morning before school, she will be just getting off her shift and won’t have time to prepare for us again.” She waved at him as she stepped back out on the porch.  See you then.  She smiled at him.

Derek closed the door, locking the deadbolt before letting out a heavy sigh.  This would be so much easier if Stiles would just give himself up, talk to them about this.  But no, why would anyone want to talk to Derek, he just grunts, growls, and scowls.  He was depressing himself further.  But he realized, Stiles had always been the one to seek him out, to talk to him, even when it seemed like he was annoyed with the kid just by his presence.  Which he was at the beginning.  He shook his head as he whipped out his phone.

 

_Stiles.  Where the HELL are you?_

_-Derek_

 

He hit send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday = Test for me. Apologizing for the lack of action, apologizing for the errors, but if I just gave you what you wanted all the time, it would be boring! And 90% smut. Will try to update but updating means avoiding studying, which I should actually do... hope you enjoyed though! Leave me comments k?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Ry grow closer. A new mission comes with an added threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so for you amazing people, I am most likely going to completely fail my exam tomorrow. THANKS A LOT. Oh, and thanks for reading, commenting, kudos-ing, and the such. Unbetaed, and unproofed like usual, because that's how I roll. Enjoy. I actually got some goosebumps writing the end of this chapter...hope you do too!

It was news to himself that he apparently snorts in his sleep.  Or so Stiles found out as he snorted, loudly, loud enough to wake himself up the next morning.  He groggily looked around to find that he was all by himself in an unfamiliar room.  He could faintly hear the sounds of a shower running. 

_Oh, right._

Some part of him wished that maybe it had all been a dream.  That none of this had _really_ happened.  Yet another part of him fiercely hoped that reality in this strange place would hold, because it was the best solution to protection and stability in his life that had come along for the people that he loved and cared about.  He inwardly winced.  He stared down at his phone, unsure of what to do.

“You’ve betrayed me!” He apparently could add ‘shouting to inanimate objects’ to snorting in his sleep as he threw his phone on the bed.  He hadn’t bothered to check his voicemail yet in fear that, well just fear period.

He noticed the sound of the water turning off in the shower, letting his thoughts linger back to the previous morning.  He felt himself flush, scooping his phone back up and excusing himself from the room before he could repeat the offense, the dude had saved his life after all, the least he could do was not be drooling all over him.

He tiptoed across the hall and lightly knocked on the door.  He waited a few seconds before repeating the action but a lot harder.  A sleepy looking Allison answered the door.

“Stilesssss, it’s too early.” Allison moaned at him ruffling her disheveled hair absently with her left hand.

He glanced down at his phone.  Holy potatoes it was only 6 am.  He was turning into one of those annoying morning people. 

“Important meeting!” Stiles squeaked, pointing at his phone.

She groaned a bit, but stepped aside to let him.  Scott was curled around a pillow on the bed like a dog.

And seriously if he didn’t like the dog jokes, he would have to stop making it _so_ easy for him to make them. 

“I know, isn’t he cute?” Allison cooed, looking lovingly at sleepy-dog-Scott. 

Yeah, he’d have to say no.  But he was intruding on their territory way too early in the morning.  He settled on just sticking a finger at his open mouth and feigning gagging.

Allison couldn’t help but snicker.

“Wha?  Who?” Scott bolted up for a moment before sighing and going back to sleep.  He didn’t even notice them. 

They fully burst out in laughter.  Scott covered his ears. 

“Five more minutes mom.” Scott mumbled with an annoyed look on his face.

“I’m gonna get a pail of warm water to put his hand in.” Stiles joked heading towards the bathroom, still clutching his stomach from the laughing fit.

“Dude!” Scott was apparently fully awake now, frantically clawing at the sheets to escape the bed.  “You promised you wouldn’t tell.  That was _one_ time in elementary school!  Not cool, man.”

Stiles laughed.  “I didn’t?” He raised his eyebrows and flattened his mouth, tilting his head slightly to one side..

“Oh, cool.”  Scott relaxed, shaking the sheet that was still caught on his leg, before slouching a bit in place.  He looked like he was going to fall back asleep standing.

“But you, you kinda just did.” Stiles admonished the last bit of information.

Scott froze.  Allison burst out in a fit of giggles.

“Anyways,” Stiles ramped up his tone.  “Pack exploded my phone with texts and calls.  I think it’s safe to say that we are no longer safe from the pack.” 

Allison grimaced, looking down at her own phone, no doubt viewing the same results.  Scott was just staring at his phone on the nightstand like it was the red-hot element on a stove.

“No turning back now then, huh?” Scott looked surprisingly serious.

“Nope.” Stiles said pulling him into a totally bro-hug.

Allison joined in with a smile.

“Do you think they will come after us?” Scott asked after they released each other.

“I don’t see how.  They have no clue where we are.  Although I’m sure that Lydia already knows what happened probably figured out the whole thing, she still has no clue where we could be.”  Stiles thought out loud.

“Can’t they track us with these?” Allison pointed at her phone, shrugging like it was obvious.

Stiles’s eyes widened for a second.  Why hadn’t he thought of that, and yeah, it was obvious.  Point for Allison.

There was a knock on the door before it opened.  Ry peeked his head through before pushing the door open with his shoulder, his hands on the top of his shirt, buttoning up the last of a collared shirt he was wearing, Stiles’s eyes wandered to the flash of tanned skin before it vanished between the navy blue fabric.  He inwardly groaned at his priorities.

“Couldn’t help but overhear that last part.  Your phones are blocked from GPS services.  Reverse services anyways.  You can use them like normal but no one can track you, handy, right?” He smiled brightly.

Stiles smiled back, a dumbstruck look on his face.  “Yeah.” 

Allison and Scott nervously looked at him.

“Unless we get kidnapped and need to locate each other.” Allison said slowly.

Stiles remembered the whole kidnapping thing and the GPS on Scott’s phone.  Oh, right.  Another point for Allison, damn.  His brain is just not working this morning.

“Uhhh.” Stiles was at a loss for words.

“That’s what I’m for though.” Ry stated simply with a grin, eyes locking with Stiles’s.

“That’s what he’s for.” Stiles parroted, goofily grinning back.

Scott pointed between the two of them, bewildered look on his face.  Allison just shrugged.

Stiles registered the motion and still took about ten seconds to snap out of his stupor.

What the heck was going on?  Stiles shook his head, realizing he was acting like, like Scott around Allison.  Woah, woah, woah there, back up.   Did that mean he—

“When you guys are done getting ready, we actually got another assignment.  So, come on down for breakfast in about, 30 minutes?” Ry smiled before backing out the door and shutting it.

Allison shot Stiles a knowing look. 

 _What?_ He mouthed at her.  She shook her head at him, smiling widely.

Stiles backed away towards the door as Scott grabbed Allison’s hand and led her to the bathroom.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go shower, in my own room, with the door closed so I cannot hear anything that is going on in your room, or your bathroom.”

Allison flashed him a scandalous look.

Stiles closed the door before he could see any more.

He took a quick shower and threw on some clothes before heading down to the dining room, not surprised to find it empty, once again.  He had only taken about ten minutes to shower and dress so he decided to poke around the pace a bit, if only to look for Ry.

He stumbled into the kitchen area to find Ry in an apron, slaving over a hot skillet making what smelled like—pure amazingness.  He practically floated over to him, his hose leading the way.

“That smells, amazing.” Stiles was drooling at this point.  At what exactly, though his brain wasn’t sure.  A man that could cook was hot.  Or at least that’s what someone told him, which is why he took up cooking as soon as he was allowed to use the stove.  And he believed it now.  Completely.  Although he often wondered if Derek could cook, Stiles did most of the pack cooking though, so he didn’t really know.  As far as he knew Derek just ate things he caught in the forest.  Or whatever he stole from his pack mates, and probably children.  He was okay with that.  His eyes went distant as he thought about Beacon Hills.

“You alright there?” Ry glanced sideways at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Stiles perked up.  “Whatcha whipping up?” He asked casually, leaning towards the skillet in front of him.

“Fried rice.” It’s a recipe my mother taught me before she passed.  “My dad _loved_ this stuff, he even put it in his will that he would have it at his funeral.  Which we did.  And it was awesome.”  Ry explained.

For so much sad in that sentence, he was still smiling pretty widely.  “I-I’m sorry.” Stiles winced as he said it.  He knew first hand sorry didn’t make it better.  He didn’t know how it would feel to lose his father too, along with his mother.  It was the whole reason he was doing this, to make sure that didn’t happen.  Not by supernatural means anyways.

“It’s cool, I’ve come to terms with it.” Ry shrugged, while literally tossing the rice in the skillet, like how he saw on the Food Network.

Yeah, guys who can cook, definitely hot.

“I lost my mom too.  A while ago though, I still don’t think I’m okay with it though.”  Stiles kinda hated himself for bringing the mood back down.

“Oh.  Well I guess I don’t have to pretend that I’m cool with it around you then.” Ry offered him a wry smile.

Weirdly, he felt better with that statement.

“Can I help?” Stiles offered, “If you have any extra ingredients, I can make some world famous Stilinski pancakes, guaranteed to make you want fourths.” He sold his pancakes in his best salesman voice.  “But then again my clientele is mostly teenaged werewolves and one broody twenties werewolf, so that could be why they scarf them down.” He chuckled at himself.

Ry smiled at him.  “You’ve sold me!  I’ll take five servings worth!” He pointed at a cabinet full of ingredients with his spatula.   
“You haven’t even tried them yet.” Stiles flushed a bit, not expecting such enthusiasm.  He usually had to badger, and badger, and badger before sour—people gave into his demands.

“They have to be amazing, if you’re making them.” He flashed Stiles grin and a wink. It was such a simple statement.  And slightly flirty.  Wait, was Ry flirting with him?  He hurried over to the other side of the kitchen to grab the ingredients.  There was no way right? 

Ry was gorgeous, like Lydia Martin, Derek Hale, level gorgeous.  Like if those two had a kid—and suddenly he was extremely depressed, and slightly confused.  A lot confused.  He really didn’t want to read into this the wrong way.  It was a surefire way to make things extremely awkward.  Granted, he wouldn’t get his throat ripped out if he read into the wrong way like he would with someone else, but he decided to ignore it for now, like everything else.

Stiles quickly grabbed all the ingredients and fired up the stove next to Ry, quickly whipping up the best pancakes known to man, the secret was the bacon, and a few spices he would not divulge, not even to himself in his head, apparently.  He grinned as he cooked.  Stiles liked to cook.  Before he became useful as bait, or as the tinkerer in the group it made him feel useful, made him feel wanted.  Because even the sourest member of the pack who shall remain unnamed, loved his cooking.

Thirty minutes later all the food was done and the lovebirds upstairs _finally_ came down to eat.

“Bacon pancakes!” Scott pounced on the plate, not even bothering with a fork.  Luckily there were about six plates stacked with them.  Stiles just laughed.

“Slow down there buddy, don’t wanna be the one to tell your mom that you died choking on one of my pancakes.  And that sounds dirty.”

Scott choked, tiny bits of pancake and bacon sputtering out of his mouth.  Allison rushed over to pat his back as his eyes teared.

Ry and Stiles were rolling, leaning into each other.

After the dangers of Scott dying via pancake had passed, they all sat down to eat a civilized meal.  Well, Scott ended up eating 70 percent of the food by himself.  But he was a growing teen wolf.

“So,” Stiles began casually swallowing a fork full of fried rice, and boy was this stuff tasty, he would have to get the recipe from Ry later.  Either that or marry the guy.  Right, get recipe later, check.  “Where are we headed next?”  He finally finished his sentence.

Ry swallowed his food before speaking.

He had manners too.

“Yeah!  Where to next?” Scott was spitting out rice everywhere.

Stiles grimaced.  So did Allison.

“Well,” Ry began, picking a piece of rice off of his arm and flicking it somewhere, “We have been given a mission in Michigan.  Right now the orders are to just get there and we will be receiving information on it soon.  So after breakfast pack up and we will be heading out to the jet.”

They all nodded at him, Scott looking a been sheepish at the eyebrow Ry was giving him over the explosion of rice that was now everywhere.  Surprise, surprise that Scott offered to clean up after breakfast.

Which is how Ry and Stiles ended up back in their room awkwardly packing around each other.  Well Stiles was awkward, Ry seemed normal.

Stiles hissed as he shoved his clothes into his duffle bag agitating the burn he got from cooking breakfast in the morning.  A blister was starting to form.  He had been trying out the pan flip thing when Ry was out in the dining room setting out the table when the bottom of the pan hit the side of his hand.  He was too embarrassed to say anything.

Except now Ry was looking over at him oddly.

“Did you burn yourself?” Ry raised an eyebrow and walked over, holding out his hand expectantly.

He reluctantly handed his hand over to the man.  “Yeah.” Stiles admitted sheepishly, flushing a little bit at the contact.

“Hmm, a blister is forming, it’s not too bad but we don’t want it to get infected.”  He looked around a bit nervously before looking Stiles in the eye.

“Hey, don’t tell anyone, okay?” Ry whispered to him as he placed Stiles’s hand between the two of his, and closed his eyes.

Stiles felt a rush of energy, all tingly and warm running through him from his hands, down to his toes and back.  It was amazing.  He watched closely as Ry seemed to glow orange, almost like the color you see at sunrise, just a bit.  He opened his eyes, their foreheads were almost touching.

Stiles noticed that his eyes weren’t as frosty blue as he thought but had a unique halo of green almost exploding from the center of his pupils.  It was amazing.  His breath hitched slightly as Ry let go.

“What was that?” Was all Stiles could say, he was just short of breathless.

Ry pointed at Stiles’s hand and sat down on the bed, seeming winded.

Stiles looked down to see his hand was completely healed.  He raised it to the light and turned it, as if not believing it.  He knew there was healing magic out there, but nothing that _felt_ like what he just felt.  Lydia had done some on him when he got stuck with that arrow, and it was kind of excruciating.  Like his skin was being melted back together.  This felt almost euphoric. 

“Was that healing magic?” Stiles found himself questioning his healer.  Looking a gift horse in its mouth, yep.

“Kind of.  I was kind of blessed by a phoenix as a child.”  He smiled sheepishly.  It was supposed to bless my sister, but it apparently chose me instead, which was weird since I had already been blessed by something else.  Long story.

He looked a bit distant at this.

“Anyways, phoenix tears have extremely powerful healing properties, I can sort of do the same.”

“But you didn’t cry on me.” Stiles sounded confused.  “I’m sure I would have noticed that.”

Ry actually flushed.  _Cute._

“Actually, its more of my…bodily fluids?  Tears, saliva, sweat, blood, among other things.  Some are definitely more potent than others, but it’s actually kind of gross.” Ry scrunched his nose.  “And it takes a lot more energy for me to channel it through my skin.  Which is why I’m winded.”  Ry was resting his hands on his knees as he explained. 

“So why didn’t you just—“ Stiles stopped himself, knowing the answer immediately.

“Because I can’t cry on command and, it might have been awkward licking you.  You know, for you.” Ry smiled a bit.  “Anyways, the Agency doesn’t exactly know about that.  They know I have supernatural sensing abilities though.  It’s kind of part of that.  I can sense life forces since I’m connected to the life cycle; you know phoenixes and their rebirths.  Once I know a life force I can track it as well.  Extremely useful for these missions, apparently.”  Ry seemed to be able to breathe normally now.

“So, they don’t know you’re a supernatural, amazing, healer?” Stiles recapped.

“Nope.” Ry smiled shaking his head smugly.

“Any reason why?” Stiles badgered.  He was sure he was pushing his luck at this point.

Ry actually smiled at him.  “It’s extremely rare.  If they knew, I think I’d probably be dissected.” Ry grimaced.

Stiles froze.  “They would do that to you?”

Ry smiled at him.  “I’m kidding!  It’s just something I don’t want them to know about me.” He shrugged.

“Can I tell Scott and Allison?” Stiles found himself asking.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t, but if you happen to mention it to the Argent girl, just be sure to stress that it should stay between us.  That Scott kid isn’t able to keep a secret at all, is he?” Ry chuckled.

“Nope.” Stiles nodded, laughing a bit himself.

“Well, I’m all packed.” Ry announced swinging his duffel over his shoulder.  “I’ll meet you in the lobby, don’t forget anything now.”  He walked towards the door.

“Why did you tell me this?  You just met me.” Stiles found himself asking softly.

Ry just shrugged, still facing the door.  “I guess, I feel like I can trust you.”  He turned around and beamed, before leaving a second later.

“Me too, with you.” Stiles confessed to the closed door.  It was an all too familiar feeling.

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

Apparently riding in your own private jet is just as exciting the second time around.  They departed from Montana sometime around 11 AM and were descending into The Great Lakes State only a mere 2 hours later.  He wondered if he would ever be able to fly coach again after this experience.

They landed in another remote airstrip somewhere in Michigan, Stiles wasn’t too sure.  As he got off the jet he was surprised to see the SUV they had used in Montana being unloaded from the tail of the jet, and seriously how did he not notice that before?  Well, he was a bit more awake this time around.  It was just after 3 PM Michigan time, by his calculations, and he totally rocked at this whole time zone thing now after being thoroughly confused why it was an hour later in Montana than it was in California.  He was more upset at the fact that he lost an hour of sleep and desperately wanted it back.

They all loaded up into the SUV and headed out.  Ry announced that they were in the great State of Michigan somewhere near a national forest called, well, the Huron National Forest.  They would just be making a quick pit stop in a place called Fairview before heading over to some housing The Agency owned in the National Park.

Fairview was a quaint town, not gigantic but not small, your basic run of the mill Michiginian town.  Yeah, Stiles was making shit up now, it was amusing.  Turns out Ry just wanted to pick up some snacks and groceries, and they were driving into the National Forest before 5 PM.   Being so far north at this time of the year meant that it was cold, very cold.  Ry had told them that it might snow sometime soon, and it might affect their mission, but not to worry, their accommodations would be more than acceptable.  Although even Stiles could hear the silent ‘I hope.’ That followed _that_ statement.

It’s a good thing Ry bought a ton of food and snacks.

They pulled up to a quite large, but rather bare looking cabin.  It was one of those older looking log cabins with gigantic logs for sides and a big chimney sticking out of the top with some big windows in the front and an equally big porch.  The cabin was in towards the western edge of a rather large clearing of trees.  Tall fir trees surrounded the area and made it seem darker than it already was.  Stiles couldn’t help but shiver at the vibes he was getting from this place.  Something didn’t seem right.  He batted at his head as a large moth swooped down, buffeting his head with it’s wings, he was lucky he was cold enough that his teeth were nearly chattering, stopping the extremely manly squeal from escaping at that.  Definitely creepy.

Allison seemed to share his sentiments as her brow was now creased with what seemed to be worried as she looked around.  Scott, as usual was oblivious to everything as he ran into the cabin calling a room for himself and Allison.

“It’s an old hunting cabin that they, err, refurbished a bit after it was sold back in the early 1970’s.” Ry told them as they entered the cabin, and gaped.

Okay, so maybe you can’t judge a book by it’s cover.  The place was pretty grand.  It was extremely modern inside, with a full kitchen and stainless steel appliances, a large screen T.V. and a sectional sofa.  The décor looked like something straight out of HGTV.

Screw the creepy feeling, Stiles was in love.  And apparently it was equipped with a state-of-the-art security system.  He flopped down on a bed in the other upstairs room, across from the one Scott and Allison had claimed.  He found himself bummed that this cabin was equipped with three rooms, and wondered if Ry would bunk with him again or choose his own room this time around.  He shook his head.

“Hey roomie.” Ry whistled as he slung his duffel bag to the floor by the dresser in the room.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile.

“Gonna hit the showers, then I can cook us up some grub.” Ry grabbed some clothes before disappearing out the door to the bathroom.

Wait.  This room had only one bed.  He flushed as he hurried out of the room, determined to tackle the task of dinner before Ry had a chance to.  He was going to show him just how good of a cook he was.  Stiles grinned.

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

Stiles cooked a feast, which he probably shouldn’t have seeing as the snow was coming down heavy by nightfall and they would possibly be snowed in tomorrow.  He made a mental note to ration the rest of the food as he stirred his famous sausage and basil herb sauce with just a pinch of oregano and cilantro.  He was pulling all the stops tonight.  He also had some spaghetti, some homemade meatballs with chorizo mixed in, homemade garlic bread and for dessert he somehow managed to get all the ingredients for smores that they could roast in the fireplace.  Pretty damned good, if he says so himself.  Scott had wandered in the kitchen somewhere around the baking of the garlic bread and was immediately chased off after sticking a finger into his homemade sauce and burning himself.  He was now seated eagerly at the table awaiting anything Stiles would throw his way.  A dog joke would be too easy.  He refrained from such a childish act.

“Well, don’t you look like an eager puppy?” Ry teased as he walked into the kitchen. 

Ry had come down earlier after his shower, surprised to find Stiles already cooking.  And after some convincing agreed to let Stiles have his way with the kitchen tonight, but only if he agreed to let Ry clean.

The oven dinged, signifying that the garlic bread was indeed done and everything was ready.  He grinned, pulling out the fresh baking sheet full of perfectly toasted morsels, placing it on a cooling rack before transferring them to a basket on the table, which Allison had set, with no help from her dog—erm boyfriend.

And dinner was _amazing_.  The food was perfectly cooked and complements were flying left and right as they dug in.  Stiles would get a big head from all of this.  Who was he kidding; he already knew he was _awesome_.  Most of the time anyways.  This just happened to be one of them.

Stiles left Ry and the others to clean the kitchen and wash the dishes as he stomped heavily up the stairs to take a shower and possibly hit the hay soon.  Ry promised to brief them tomorrow on their mission as the final details hadn’t really come in yet, but he was promised an update by tomorrow morning. 

He was extremely sleepy as he trudged back into the room to find another dilemma facing him.  The one bed.  This would make things awkward.  He didn’t wanna seem selfish or pretentious and take the bed, but he also really, _really,_ wanted to sleep in the gigantic pile of clouds and awesomeness he was testing out earlier.  He sighed as he pulled some bedding on to the floor, looking out the window as he passed by.

When something caught his eye, well the corner of his eye, he saw a dark figure, barely illuminated by the glow cast off of the moon and the lights from the cabin.  His skin broke out in goose bumps as what seemed like glowing yellow eyes looked at him from the distance, what seemed like butterfly—no, moth wings were silhouetted, slightly blurred by the falling snow.  He blinked, getting closer to the window to try and get a better look, but his body wouldn’t move, it was like every fiber of his being was telling him not to get any closer.

But just as instantly as it appeared, it vanished, leaving only falling white snow in the window.   
 _What the hell was that?_ His heartbeat was frantic by now, he hadn’t felt this afraid in a long time, and over what?  A silhouette in the dark that he wasn’t even sure if he saw, and on top of that of a gigantic moth man?  Not exactly on the top 10 scary supernatural creatures that he compiled. 

What?  It was totally an acceptable thing to do.

He quickly scurried under the blankets he pulled to the floor putting his face in the pillows as Ry entered the room, shutting the door softly behind him.  He heard the bed springs creak as Ry climbed on top of it.

“Stiles, what are you doing down there?” Ry whispered in the dark.

He opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out.  He couldn’t tell if it was from nervousness or the still lingering chill he had just experienced.

A sigh followed by a small chuckle came from the bed as the blanket was pulled off from on top of him.

“C’mon up, plenty of room, and it’s a lot more comfortable than the floor.” Ry smiled.

He nervously smiled back, getting up off the floor and scurrying on to the bed quickly, sticking close to the opposite side of Ry, who lay there with his fingers laced behind his head on the pillow.

He turned his head to face Stiles as his smile faded slightly.  “Something wrong?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Ry sounded slightly serious.

“Something like that.” Stiles breathed out, willing himself to calm down.  He’s literally in bed with a hot guy and he can’t stop shaking.

“You’re shaking, what happened?” He sounded concerned now.

All Stiles could do was nod, letting out a small squeak as the distance between them was closed in a flash and he was pulled tightly against a strong chest, hand arm draped lightly over his torso. 

“It will be okay, Stiles.”

Stiles could feel the smile behind him as Ry said these words.

“Tell me what happened?” 

“I thought I saw something outside,” Stiles shrugged against his chest as he said it. “I’m not sure what it was, it was just some kind of figure in the dark.”

Ry frowned slightly, or at least that’s what Stiles thinks he did, as he was currently the little spoon.  “What did it look like?”

At least he believed him.  Stiles sighed, the goose bumps returning just thinking about it.

“You’re gonna laugh but, it kinda looked like a moth man, with these glowy yellow eyes, just staring up at the window.  I don’t even know why I reacted so badly to it.  I mean I would find mole men scarier than moth men.  Don’t suppose you have a can of Raid lying around somewhere?” Stiles tried to joke but noticed the body against him going stiff at his words.

“Ry?” Stiles questioned.

The body relaxed.

“You’ll be find Stiles.” Ry whispered softly into his ear.

Stiles found himself relaxing as the warmth from the body against him permeated into him.  He smiled, sure that he was probably blushing but it was dark he was safe.  Safe in Ry’s arms.

 

Sometime during the night Stiles awoke to find himself alone in bed.  The bedroom door was cracked slightly as light from the hallway poured in.  Stiles crawled to the end of the bed hearing a hushed voice on the phone.  It was Ry.

“Mhmm, right.  Look, I’m calling so late not to question your decision to send them on this mission, but something came up.”  He could only hear one part of the conversation, and he was straining to just hear that.  “No.  I think we should rethink—it’s not that I don’t think they can handle it.  No.” He heard Ry sigh.  “Look, I think something else is here, Stiles said he saw something and it caught my attention.  What?  Don’t bring my sisters into this.”

_His sisters?_

“Will you just listen for once?”  Ry was practically shouting in whispers now.  “I think in addition to whatever it is you sent us here to take care of, there is a Harbringer.  And not any Harbringer, a powerful one, one that can manifest.”

More silence.

“A moth.”

Stiles was holding his breath.

“Two days is too long, we might be snowed in.  Activate the auxiliary spells on this place, and I’ll do my best to keep us alive.  Right, thanks.” The phone beeped, signaling the end of the call.

Stiles quietly crawled back into his sleeping position on the bed as Ry stepped back into the room sighing heavily.  He slowly got back into bed and pulled Stiles back into the previous position they had been when he fell asleep.  He pretended to be asleep as Ry pulled him close, but he couldn’t help but feel the tiny tremors that were running through the older man’s body.  The familiar tremors that he had gotten after his mom passed away, or the nights his father came home late and he didn’t know if the doorbell ringing was the deputy coming over to give him some bad news.  He wasn’t sure exactly what just happened.  But he knew the fear from earlier tonight was slowly creeping back into his bones, into his soul.  And deep down, he wasn’t sure if they would be leaving this place alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Semi-cliffhanger, but no apologies for it! How else can I get you all to come back to read this crap! <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile back in Beacon Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really short chapter this time guys and I apologize for the weaksauce that is this chapter, but it had to happen and the next chapter should hopefully make up for it. Life is hitting me hard now with work and school and Torchlight II. I MEAN ONLY WORK AND SCHOOL AND THIS FIC. Hehehe... As always unbetaed, unproofread (MAYBE A VOLUNTEER?), and thank you for the comments, kudos and love, it's honestly all that's keeping me writing at this point! So if you've been commenting and kudos-ing the last three chapters are dedicated to you! Thank you! This chapter is dedicated to no one because it would be an insult to whomever I dedicated it to. And by the way, I handled my big test like a terrorist, I BOMBED IT. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA ;-;. *curls into fetal position*

It had been approximately four days since they had discovered the three to be missing.  Or three, heck, it could have been five, Derek had lost all of his patience and by association, sense of time by the first few hours into the incident.  It had been frustrating, to say the least, that nobody had seen or discovered _anything_.

Even Lydia seemed to be grasping at straws by now.  Something that she wasn’t taking too well to.

Their initial ambush on Melissa McCall had seemed promising at first.  She was extremely nervous and spouting out some obvious lies.  But after some time of badgering and letting her know that you can’t exactly lie to a werewolf, which apparently Scott had failed to tell her to her dismay, she admitted she was covering and refused to give up any more information.

And eviscerating Scott’s mom, who was actually a good person and helped them out on more than one occasion, was probably not the best idea.  He had barely even entertained the idea, maybe eviscerating Stiles, but not Ms. McCall.

He growled as he backtracked through the blur of a days, or had it been a week?  This was not helping.

He was sitting in his car, had been for about the last half hour, at least in front of a rather nice, extremely familiar house.  Not that he had ever been inside before, but he had heard stories.  And although most of them were from a spaz of a teenaged kid, or a love struck or heart broken, depending on the time of the month, pup.  The time of the month comment was for Scott, the moon was more than equivocal in his case, even Erica had more control over her emotions during the full moon.  Even when certain events happened to coincide.  He shook his head with a grimace.

Right, he had something to do.

It was a kind of a sign, being here, that things had gotten desperate.  Something that he was not really willing to admit, yet here he was in front of Chris Argent’s house, about to play nice.  He forced a smile, glancing at himself in the window’s reflection before stepping up to the door.  He looked ridiculous.

He decided on the doorbell, ringing it twice before taking a step back, in case Chris came out, guns blazing.  While they were relatively allies, it didn’t mean that they were friends or anything.  It was more along the line of mutual respect, or at least he seemed to get on board with the respect that Allison showed him and his pack.  And now that Allison was gone, he wasn’t too sure where that line was drawn now.  And there was that whole incident with his wife.

The door flew open and he flinched a bit, awkwardly smiling at the man who was eyeing him suspiciously from the open doorway.

Chris actually burst out laughing.  Like full on side-splitting laughter. 

Derek was confused.  He was about to turn around and leave when a hand caught his shoulder.

“I’m sorry Derek, it was just your face.  I mean has it really been that long since you smiled?”  Chris was holding his side.

Well besides the humiliation and the sort of insult, only sort of because it was kind of true, Chris seemed to be in a good mood.  Which was at least something that was going in his favor.

“Chris.” Derek said, nodding at him.

“Derek.” Chris said back, face falling back into something that didn’t scream ‘your face was hilarious’.

“Look, we’ve known each other for a while now, and I know you’re not one to come to my doorstep unless it’s something pretty serious.  I imagine this is about my daughter, the McCall kid, and that Stilin—the spazzy one.”  He cut to the chase.

“Well, um.” Derek stuttered a bit, he hadn’t had expected it to be this easy to be honest.  He expected broody eyebrows and a stonewall defense.  That’s when he realized he was kind of expecting himself to answer the door.  He inwardly cursed at the admittance to his broodiness, Stiles would never let him live this one down.  Not that he’d ever find out though.

“Yes.” Derek finally finished his sentence.  He _really_ needed to find his pack and get things back to normal soon, he was turning into a—Stiles.  Could a werewolf _actually successfully_ commit suicide?  Not until he found them, he reminded himself.

“I’m looking for them.  I think they’re in over their heads and possibly are throwing away their lives for something that I—we could have prevented ourselves.”  He glanced downwards at his admission.

“Hale.” Chris started, “Let’s go inside and have this conversation.”  He stepped aside to let the alpha in his house.

Derek only hesitated for a moment; he couldn’t help the small feeling that he was stepping into the jaws of a trap.  “Old habits die hard”, he mumbled to himself, stepping into the house cautiously.

For a hunter’s house it was a lot more, _rococo_ , than he would have expected.  And damn Stiles for giving him that word of the day calendar.

Derek half expected it to be some sort of taxidermist’s dream with stuffed something or another on display for all to clearly see that, ‘Yes, we Argents can hunt you and we will not hesitate to stuff you’, that line clearly not complete without a with a shit-eating grin.  He imagined Chris Argent delivering that line and chuckled a bit.  Who said he wasn’t funny?  He was clearly hilarious, at least in his head.

“Something funny, Hale?” Chris questioned as he closed the front door and gestured to the barstools by their island in the kitchen.

Derek walked over but didn’t sit.  He liked standing.

“Nothing worth mentioning.” Derek replied, looking around.  “Anyways,” he locked eyes with Chris.   “What do you know?”

Chris didn’t blink, but didn’t say a word.

Somehow Derek had gotten himself into a stare down with the resident hunter, and he had no idea how he had even gotten here.  He furrowed his brow.

Chris looked away.  “Look, my daughter didn’t want me to say anything.  And as she is the _future_ leader of the Argent clan, I would like to respect her wishes.”

Derek sighed, shaking his head.  What a colossal waste of time.  He nodded politely and was halfway to the door when a strong hand gripped his shoulder from behind.

“But, as her _Father_ , I feel like she maybe rushed into things a bit.”  Chris finished.

Derek whipped around faster than he would have liked to admit.  He made an attempt to cover the gesture by leaning awkwardly against the closest wall and crossing his arms, draping his eyebrows as low as they could go. 

Chris raised an eyebrow at him before shaking his head.

“You have to realize something first though, Hale.  I never intended for this to be my daughter’s lifestyle.”  Chris looked at him squarely.  “She was supposed to grow up as a normal teen.  I know I couldn’t have kept this from her forever, but after what my father turned my sister into, I didn’t want this for her.”  
Derek couldn’t help but wince at the mention of Kate Argent.  He shook the thoughts from his head, he was here for a reason, he wouldn’t allow himself to be deterred now.

Derek nodded at Chris.  “Okay.” He didn’t really know what else to say.  He sort of knew the only reason Allison had become a hunter is after being dragged into the whole werewolf business.  He only felt a little responsible; Scott was about 90 percent to blame.

Chris sighed.  “The three of them joined that agency that you had that tryouts with.”  
“It wasn’t a tryout, it was a trap.”  Derek responded quickly.

“It was a tryout, even I knew that.”  Chris made a gesture dangerously close to rolling his eyes.

“Allison said that you—“ Derek started, as he eyed the Argent suspiciously.

“I know what Allison said that I said.  This agency is like organized hunters, but bigger.  They have branches everywhere and they hunt everything.  My family actually has strong ties with the founders, and of course I couldn’t say anything when they contacted me about your little tryout.”  Chris had a pinched look on his face.

“And yet you let her—“ Derek was cut off again.

“I can’t control her for the rest of her life, she’s 18 now and told me this is what she wanted, to protect _your_ pack, to protect,” Chris stopped and his voice dropped to a whisper, “me.”  He flashed an incredulous look.  “How could I say no to that?  Plus, she went on and on about how the spazzy kid really needed looking after, how he was going to go with or without her and Scott.”

Derek opened his mouth, but shut it slowly, deciding that he was most likely about to get cut off again anyways.  _Stiles was going to join it alone?  What the hell was he thinking?_   He waited a moment.

“You should know that this agency they joined is actually for the most part a good organization.  They stick strictly to the code and sometimes go out of their way to make sure that the things they hunt cannot be saved by other means before, well, you know.”

Big bad hunter Argent can’t even say kill, or murder, or eliminate, or cut in half.  Derek was getting off track. 

“How can we find them?” Derek steadied his voice.

“You probably can’t, they could be anywhere in the U.S. at this point.  Actually, they have contacts around the world.  I wouldn’t be surprised if their first mission was in Europe.”  Chris looked distant.

“Well then, what can we do?”  Derek was starting to get frustrated, what was the point of him telling him this if there was no way to find them?

“I’m not sure.  I just wanted to let you know that the organization isn’t as bad as you thought.  And they’ve kept their end of the bargain.” He looked around his house.  “Mages came by a few days ago, powerful stuff.  They don’t dole out this type of magic for just anyone, you know.”

Derek was sure his eyes flashed.  He didn’t care about the protection if it meant losing his S—His pack members.  What kind of alpha would do that?  He headed for the door, muttering a sorry excuse for a thanks as he slammed it shut, getting into his car and driving straight back to the Hale estate.  He was sure Chris was smiling as he left.

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

“Argent was a bust.” Derek grunted to Lydia as she strode into the house somewhere around 3 PM, Jackson strangely nowhere to be seen.  He unconsciously raised an eyebrow.

“He’s getting some things for me.”  She waved a hand at him absently.  “You went to see Chris?” She shot him an look that read half impressed, half sorry.  “Must’ve been desperate for you to do _that._ ”  The snark in her voice was hard to hide.

Derek growled.  “Well since you weren’t getting anywhere.  I did something.  And I found out they did join, to you know, for protection.”  Derek shrugged.

“So you went all the way over there to learn exactly what I told you six days ago?” Lydia sighed.

 _Six days?!_   It was a lot longer than he thought.  He grimaced at the facts.  The longer they took the harder it would be to find them.

“Argent said that they could be anywhere in the world at this point.”  Derek couldn’t help but sound a bit defeated.

“Hmm.” Lydia hummed at this, perking up a bit.  She grabbed his hand and pricked his finger with a pin, squeezing a drop of blood into a vial she whipped out of her clutch before turning around and striding directly out of the house.  “I’ll call you later.”

He heard her say it after the door closed, leaving a very baffled Derek standing at the counter.  He shrugged; looking at his finger, which had healed the second she had stopped squeezing the blood out.  He wondered if he should be worried. Probably. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be done by Sunday? Hopefully sooner. Thanks for sticking with me guys! If anyone wants to volunteer to beta this for me, let me know. My e-mail should be on my profile.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week later, at the cabin...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for waiting. No spoilers here. But if you find this chapter exceptionally enjoyable, please do kudos and comment. I dedicate all kudos and comments to my charismatic beta, Caristia. Hope you enjoy!

_Day Seven.  We’ve been stuck in this cabin for a week now.  Ry seems to be holding out the best of the four of us, keeping us busy with work and assignments to help pass the time until help gets here.  Scott has somehow resorted to hibernation as a coping mechanism, while Allison, of the Argent clan, has shown signs of cabin fever after day three.  She is currently in the living room practicing archery using a pillow that she McGyvered into a target.  It seems to be an unspoken rule that we do not go in there.  Not until the telltale thumping of the arrows plunging deep into the makeshift targets stops for more than fifteen minutes.  And even then, we wait.  Food is becoming scarce as the days and nights seem to blend together.  While Scott appears to be napping most of the time, his appetite has yet to be sated.  After running out of meat last night he began looking at me with the most peculiar look on his face.  It was especially apparent this morning as he munched on a very Stiles-shaped piece of wheat toast.  I fear that my time in this world may be coming to an end soon.  Eaten by the best friend.  It was a good run.  If you are reading this, then I most likely became werewolf chow.  Please tell my dad that I love him.  Tell Lydia to be herself.  Tell Derek that there isn’t actually an allergy to feelings.  And lastly, tell Scott that I hope that he got the worst food poisoning ever from eating me, and that I blame him utterly and completely for me dying a virgin._

_-S. Stilinski_

Okay so maybe Stiles knew he was being a  _bit_  overdramatic.  But being snowed-in, in a cabin, in the middle of  _Michigan_  really,  _really_ , called for some drama.  No matter how rococo the interior was decorated.  At least it kept  _him_  amused, he told himself.  He was really starting to miss Montana.

Stiles closed his notebook and sighed.  This journal thing that Ry had suggested at their last tutoring session was only marginally helping. 

Oh yeah, and apparently aside from being a super secret healer, just a normal secret agent, and being extremely hot, Ry was apparently really, really smart.  Smart enough to be their tutor, as he explained that education was not something they would be missing, even if they were in a secret organization now.  He didn’t wear glasses though.   And there went that fantasy.

Speaking of Ry, yeah, things were only a bit awkward after that night six days ago.  Apparently he apologized the next morning if he had ‘overstepped’ any boundaries and hoped that Stiles wouldn’t think any less of him.  Which had left Stiles, very, very confused.  Only because, had Stiles been the big spoon that night, Ry would have had no confusion to what Stiles was thinking that next morning, and all through that afternoon as Ry was walking around the cabin in a very tight fitting t-shirt.

Stiles cleared his throat as he blushed at  _that_  thought.  He really needed to stop with the internal monologue, that’s what the journal was supposed to be for.  Not that he’d ever write that down where extremely bored people were stuck in a cabin all day with nothing exciting to do except  _invade other people’s privacy._  

He rolled his eyes angrily, well as angrily as one could roll their eyes.  Scott deserved to be semi-scarred by his internal turmoil about certain subjects possibly involving their handler, and again, a possibly sour-wolf.  What was it with Stiles and his pseudo pack leaders?  And so that was how Scott got his answer to his question of why Stiles smelled like Ry the next morning.

So things with Ry were kind of awkward, for Stiles.  Ry seems to have placed the ball in Stiles’s court and Stiles really didn’t know what to do with the ball.  Sure he played Lacrosse and even had his spree of not bench warming  _all of the time_.  But seriously, should he pass it, or go for the goal?  Using sports analogies was never something Stiles thought he would be using any time soon.  Ry wasn’t pushing or anything at all, things actually seemed normal.  Which is why Stiles was so confused.  Had he read into the actions too much?  What did ‘overstepping’ boundaries actually mean?  Like, did it mean overstepping the boundaries as his handler, or personal boundaries?  Stiles was not even aware boundaries had even existed in this certain case.  This slew of questions called for copious amounts internal  _and_  external groaning.

Stiles flopped his head down on the desk he was sitting at, which was purposely faced away from any window in the house.  Screw lake effect snow.  The snow had really come down that night, seven days ago.  Enough to completely block off the ground level of the house, and while they could have theoretically dug a tunnel out of it, because there was a covered porch and room to move the snow, Ry had actually decided against it, telling them that it was probably a good idea to sit tight and wait for help.  It had been storming off and on since then, and help should have arrived four days ago, according to the two-day timeline he had eavesdropped on. 

And Stiles hadn’t forgotten the conversation he had overheard that night, not at all.  In fact he still got the chills when replaying what he had seen out the window that night, combined with what Ry had been saying on the phone.  But as the days went by and the cabin fever slowly and painfully set in, it suddenly seemed a little less important than let’s say, not being eaten by your werewolf best friend, or being turned into a arrow cushion by a cabin fever-gone huntress.  

Once again,  _so much freaking_ therapy.  

He was beginning to wonder if there was actually any threat here at all.  He could at least hope.

Stiles hadn’t said anything to Ry, or even to Scott or Allison.  He figured that it might make things a bit  _more_ awkward, or possibly volatile.  And volatile in an enclosed space was just bad juju.  So he kept quiet, attended the tutoring sessions that Ry set up and taught, which even Scott was doing well in by the way (Ry is a miracle worker).  That, and researching the case they were assigned or cooked meals with Ry or Allison, who he had banned from chopping duties after the cutting board mysteriously split in half when she was cutting tomatoes.  Tomatoes.  How do you even do that?

About the case, Ry had gotten word in about the original reason they were sent to Michigan that morning after and had them researching it on their off times, seeing as they couldn’t actually get out there to hunt the thing down.  And between the four of them, because Ry was actually offering help this time around, seeing as he was probably bored out of his skull as well, it was shaping up to be either a Shape Shifter or a Yeti, or possibly a shape-shifting Yeti.  The reports that were listed in the file were centralized around crazy animal attacks victimizing hikers and visitors to the park, mostly at night, but in rare cases, in broad daylight.  This combined with brutal animal killings, which looked to be committed by something massive.  The strangest part was that while some of the bodies appeared to be clearly snacked on, others were left relatively untouched, you know, besides the whole  _being mauled to death_  thing.  Park rangers and the Fish and Gaming Commission were guessing at some sort of rabid bear, or perhaps a manic moose, but of course they wouldn’t know any better.  And so far, nine confirmed people had either been reported missing in the national park or found mauled, and the body count was expected to rise, or so Ry had said, a bit nervously too.  One of the victims had been a seven-year-old girl from California.  It was as if Ry wanted desperately to help, but knew that something else was up too.  This was just an  _educated_  guess though.

But Stiles could totally and completely relate.  His stomach churned and his gut clenched as he looked at the photos and read the reports.  Whatever it was that was killing these people and animals in the area was clearly out of its mind.  And he _had_ to do something about it.  He supposed he had inherited that trait from his father.  But what could he do?  If it was a shape shifter, then it could be anything, including a Yeti, he supposed, but if it was a yeti, well, what does one do to find a deranged Yeti?  And what  _can_  one do about a yeti slash shape shifter when snowed into a cabin in the middle of a national park.  Where the  _hell_ was that help?

Ry walked into the room at that internal question.  Stiles picked his head up off of the desk, a red disc imprinted on his forehead.

“Hey Ry?” Stiles croaked a bit.  His throat felt a bit weird, as he hadn’t really talked for the last day; he cleared it a bit self-consciously.  A _whole day_ without talking, a new record, Derek would have been oh  _so_ proud of him.

Ry looked up at him, smiling a little.

He couldn’t help but smile back a little.   _Focus, Stiles._  “I was just uh, wondering you know, when exactly is that help getting here?”  Stiles scratched the back of his head absently with his pen. 

Ry tilted his head a bit, his eyes widening a tad as he shifted them a bit, nervously.

“It’s just, well, it’s been about you know, a week now?  And clearly this snow is not clearing itself anytime soon.” Stiles gestured at the window where more snow was falling lazily by. “I’m just worried that if we don’t get help soon, or get more food at least, Scott is most definitely going to eat me.”

“Hey!” Scott’s voice sounded faint as he yelled from somewhere downstairs.

Ry and Stiles both chuckled at this.  But then Ry got up and closed the door.

 _Uh-oh._ Stiles gulped.

“I’m going to be honest with you Stiles,” Ry locked his frosty blue eyes with his chocolate brown ones, “I’m not completely sure.  They were supposed to have sent a small team out here to help dig us out four days ago, but honestly I have no clue where they are.  I’ve tried contacting the Agency again, but something seems to be blocking the cell signal.”  
Stiles couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty at the admission.  He already knew all of this from the eavesdropping.

“But, sometimes storms like these, can interfere with cell signals.”  Ry smiled reassuringly.

Ugh, that smile.  He felt all warm and gooey inside when he was on the receiving end of that thing.  Seriously if he just went outside and smiled, all the snow would probably melt, problem solved.

Ry raised an eyebrow at him and smirked, almost amused, like he knew where Stiles’s thoughts had wandered off to.

Stiles was beaming goofily at this point, so he supposed that could have been the reason as well.

“I like your smile.” Ry said simply, “You should do that more often.”

And more confusion.   _Abort.  Abort.  Defuse with humor, abort!_

“Oh, I totally do, do it all the time.  Just usually not when I’m stuck in a cabin for, you know, a week?  This smile right here?” He pointed back at his grin with both thumbs.  “This is for the fact that the piping hasn’t frozen and the toilet paper hasn’t run out yet.”  He deadpanned the last part.

Ry had gotten closer by now as he chuckled at Stiles’s response, close enough that Stiles could faintly smell the soap from his shower earlier.  Close enough to see the explosion of green in his blue eyes again.  Close enough to—

Stiles unconsciously leaned in.

A knock at the door stopped him before he could lean any further.  He scurried back away from Ry as the door opened, as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.  Oh wait, he probably was.  Damn.

“Hey guys, I was just wondering if there was going to be any food?”  A meek Scott peeked his head through the door.

Stiles didn’t have to be a werewolf to hear Scott’s stomach rumbling.  And how the heck was his appetite so good when had been sleeping all day?  Stiles rolled his eyes exaggerating the gesture by rolling his head as well.

“Sure Scott, I’ll whip something up, but we’re out of meat, sorry to say.”  Ry actually looked apologetic, which is way more than the overgrown puppy deserved at the moment.

Scott's face fell at the news of no meat.  ‘Kicked puppy’ was all  _too_  accurate.

“Actually, now that I think about it, I think I froze some sausage links when we first got here.  I just have to check on that.”  Ry smiled.

Scott’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

Something clicked in Stiles’s brain, looking at Scott’s illuminated expression. 

“No, I cooked that on the second night for breakfast.”  Stiles spat out a bit too quickly.  _Very smooth, Stilinkski_.

“You cooked it at night, for breakfast?” Ry looked confused. 

Damn him for being smart, Scott never questioned his confusing words, ever.

“Yeah, remember when I made breakfast for dinner?”  Stiles flashed a desperate look at Ry as Scott stared at him through narrowed eyes.  He was _so_ going to be eaten soon.

“Oh,  _oh!_  I remember now, yeah.  Sorry, Scotty.  But I’ll make some tofu that will taste just like meat!” Ry chirped cheerily as he hopped up from where he was crouching next to Stiles.  Where they had almost—

Right.  Thank  _god,_  Ry was smart.  He was okay with his contradictions.  But now he had a plan.  A plan that would most likely end up with him being eaten nonetheless, but at this point, feeling the cabin fever setting in, our hero felt (monologue in third person, this was a new thing for him) it really was the better option at this point.

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

“How did you talk me into this plan again?” Ry was clearly suppressing the amused tone in his voice, as any normal person would probably be quite miffed at this point.  They were all standing defensively around a large bon fire burning in the middle of the large clearing around the cabin.  The last of their meat supply cooking happily on the end of sticks around the edges of the fire as the light wind whiffed the smell around the entire area, the smell of the bacon cheddar sausages was heavy in the air.  Scott was drooling, inching closer and closer to the link cooking on the western side of the bonfire, the side furthest away from Stiles.  The boy just had an entire plate full of tofu (that tasted surprisingly like meat, once again, miracle worker Ry), and he was _still_ hungry.

“Don’t _even_  think about it, Scotty.” Stiles yelled without even turning around, as he turned his head to address Ry’s question.

He swore he heard a whine.

“I didn’t, I—we were simply making a large bonfire after dinner and you clearly wanted to join in on the oodles of fun we were having.” Stiles threw his best, patented innocent Stilinski smile, the same smile he had been using since kindergarten when he danced around and set fire to the truth.

Ry shook his head, but he was grinning.  He was scanning the area as Stiles did the same.

The glow of the bonfire was illuminating most of the tree line and most of the snow pile that was their cabin, and what the fire didn’t hit, the surprisingly bright half moon illuminated in a pale white.  The snow was not really that deep outside the cabin itself, turns out there was a huge pine tree that towered over the cabin, and the branches had unloaded all of the snow it received directly onto the cabin, hence the snow pile that was now their cabin.

“Are you sure this will actually work?” Allison questioned from the northern side of the bonfire, flicking her eyes over to where Stiles stood.

He nodded as he looked over his shoulder to Scott. Convincing Scott and Allison at first had been a hard sell.  To risk life and limb against something that they weren’t even sure of what it was exactly, wasn’t a great plan to go on.  On top of that the plan to lure the beast here with the smell of cooking sausages, wasn’t exactly solid science.  Somehow though, mentioning that this plan would take place outside the cabin suddenly made this plan extremely desirable.  A point Stiles had deduced as Allison repeated the word ‘outside’ looking distant and hopeful about six times when she should have been listening to what the plan had exactly entailed.  And it _was_ based on solid logic.  Stiles got his inspiration from none other than the overgrown puppy himself.  The boy was so hungry after seven days of well—he guessed he was eating the whole time, but after a whole day without meat, Scott looked ravished enough to eat his best friend. Which meant that if this snowstorm was keeping visitors out, which he was sure of as the status of the national park had changed to closed after that first night – due to extreme weather. And since the beast clearly had been snacking on at least  _some_  of it’s victims, then it had to be  _starved_ by now. 

Seven days without potential meals could make even garbage smell like a four course meal at the finest steakhouse in all the lands.  And these sausages smelled _heavenly_.  Point for logic, which makes the score Logic: 1 Curiosity: 3.  Curiosity had apparently gotten a ninja point somewhere between defrosting the sausages and putting them on sticks to roast as the first one to be roasted had _curiously_ disappeared before Scott and Allison climbed out the second story window to join him outside.  He may still have hope yet of not dying a very _curious_ death.

Ry had apparently just taken a hot shower when he noticed that nobody was in the cabin.  It only took him a matter of seconds to find the open window and see the glow of the gigantic bonfire to put two and two together.  Did Stiles mention that Ry was really, really smart?

And initially Ry wanted to put a stop to their plan.  His argument that it simply was’t safe to lure an unknown  _hungry, deranged, gigantic_  creature to them—and why was this a good plan again?

Stiles began to feel nervous, his palms sweating as he gripped some of the mini-self-igniting Molotov cocktails he had brought from home.   _Thank you Lydia._

A low snarl seemed to roll over the somewhat silence that had settled, aside from the crackling of the fire and the light whispers of the wind.  Scott snapped his head to the north side of the clearing.

“I hear something coming from the north.” Scott whispered.  They were wearing their comms, but it was still difficult to hear him.

“What?” Stiles hissed as he turned around slowly to face west, Scott’s side of the fire.

“Stiles, north.” Ry repeated over the comm as a faint thumping reverberated across the clearing.

The tree line was flickering orange from the flames of the bonfire as the faint thumping slowly crescendoed into that scene from  _Jurassic Park_  with the T-Rex and the water bottle.  The snow that gathered on the pines crunched in protest as the vibrations shook it from its resting places on the branches, sending piles of the white powder plummeting to the ground.

Stiles palled.  This thing sounded  _massive_.  What had he gotten them in to?

They had all gathered in front of the northern side of the fire with Ry’s back to Stiles’s as he covered their rear.  And that was actually smart.  He could not recall how many times the loud, obvious noise was actually the distraction.  The pounding was growing louder and closer by the second; the ground was shaking close to earthquake proportions by now.  He firmly gripped the vials as Allison raised her bow and Scott crouched down aggressively, completely wolfed out, the tops of the trees right behind those nearest to the edge of the clearing swaying viciously as  _something_ pushed past them. 

When it suddenly stopped.

Stiles swallowed, his throat suddenly extremely dry with anticipation and fear.  He narrowed his eyes at the tree line, a mere 50 meters away from their position, desperately looking for something—anything.  His heart was pounding loudly in his ears.  The silence now was almost deafening.

“Look out!” Ry shouted as he grasped Stiles’s and Allison’s arms suddenly, pulling them away from the bonfire in one swift motion, not stopping until a strong force knocked them forward, causing them to tumble in the snow.  Scott quickly lunged out of the way with his superior werewolf speed, landing next to them and helping Allison up.

The bonfire had exploded in a flurry of logs and fire.  It seemed like something had burst out of it, from the center, sending everything flying.  But that wasn’t accurate, because as he looked over, the foot of a gigantic beast planted directly where the bonfire had been.  Complete with a gigantic scaly head, a long snout, unblinking eyes, and sharp teeth, dipping down to pick the sausages off of the sticks.  It honestly looked like a giant eating some grains of rice. 

That’s when he recognized the creature.  It was a Tyrannosaurus Rex.  Wait,  _what?!_

“T-t-t-that’s a dinosaur.” Scott dumbly stuttered as he watched the creature eat the last of the sausages, scattered among the remains of what used to be their bonfire.

“That’s a T-Rex.” Allison corrected him, but looked equally as stunned.  She wearily raised her bow.

“Are you telling me the MSC is a  _freaking T-rex?_ ”  Stiles sounded slightly deranged.  No.  The T-Rex eating the tiny sausages in front of him was deranged, not him.  This much was clearly clear.  Clearly even!

Ry groaned, wiping a streak of blood off of his forehead as he helped himself up from the snow.

“Shit, Ry, are you okay?” Stiles rushed over to help him up.

“One of the logs wanged me in the head, but I’ll be fine.” He waved off the concerned look plastered across Stiles’s face with a small smile.  “But that thing, I refuse to believe that,  _that._ ” he gestured at the dinosaur as it raised it’s head towards them.

“It’s looking at us!” Scott hissed as he slowly backed up.

They all slowly backed up as the T-Rex licked its teeth hungrily.  Apparently the tiny, itsy bitsy sausage links were just the appetizer.  Go figure.  Suddenly a Yeti sounded so much like fighting a slightly miffed puppy.  And as much as he hated fighting puppies, he would definitely choose it over being eaten by an _Tyrannosaurus Rex._   They all broke out into a run, heading towards the tree line at a breakneck pace.  Well as fast as one could sprint in through one foot of snow.  

“How the  _hell_  did nobody notice the gigantic, one hundred foot freaking  _dinosaur_  living in a national park in  _Michigan?_ ” Stiles screamed at the top of his lungs as he ran, Scott in the lead with Allison in second, Ry bringing up the rear.   The loud pounding had returned as the beast chased them across the clearing, closing the 20-meter gap between them by the second.

Stiles desperately fished in his bags as he ran, grabbing two smoke bombs and tossing them behind him without even looking, the familiar  _woosh_  sounding off as they hit the snow.  He chanced looking over his shoulder for a second, seeing a large wall of smoke instead of a gigantic, murderous  _dinosaur_ chasing them.  Yeah, he still wasn’t over that little fact.  The pounding behind them slowed significantly as the creature got lost in the smoke.

He fist pumped as they plunged through the tree line and took cover behind various tree trunks, breathing hard and hearts racing.  The thumping had stopped completely. 

_Just a yeti they said, or maybe a shape shifter they said.  It would be fine they said.  But noooo, I get a freaking extinct dinosaur!_

Stiles was still hysterical in his mind.

“I don’t see it anymore guys.” Scott reported over the comms from somewhere in the trees.

Stiles peeked around the tree trunk.  The smoke was still there, but clearing by the second, and no T-Rex.  No nothing.   _What?_

“Hmm.” Ry hummed over the comm.

“Stiles!” Allison shouted.  “Look out behind you!”

Stiles whipped around just in time to see an actual yeti—yep, shaggy white fur, crazy ape-like face, thick burly limbs, definitely a yeti, swinging at him with its large furry arms.  He slumped against the tree trunk just in time as the fist pummeled where he had been just seconds ago.  The Yeti roared in frustration.  And seriously the thing sounded just like Chewbacca.

The familiar whizzing of an arrow peircing through the night sounded to his left as an arrow appeared in the creature’s shoulder, eliciting a booming wail of pain from the creature who ripped the arrow out only seconds later.  The sound of a hurt Chewbacca elicited some sort of pity reflex mechanism.

Stiles shook it off quickly as he hurriedly scurried away from the creature as it whipped around to find its assailant.

“Get back into the clearing!” Ry commanded as he helped Stiles up, pulling him back towards the clearing.  Allison followed close behind, Scott leaping from branch to branch above them.

But the Yeti was deceivingly fast.  It barreled after them, lunging after Allison as she gracefully flipped to one side, barely avoiding the blow.  But the second swing was too fast in succession; it clipped her on her right thigh.  She cried out in pain as the blow shook her balance and she fell in the snow just five meters into the clearing.

“Allison!” Scott yelled as he dived from the trees above, tackling the creature to the ground as Stiles raced over to help her up. 

“How bad is it?” Stiles asked her as he quickly draped her arm around his neck and helped her to a standing position.

Scott was brawling with the creature a mere meter away.

“I don’t think it’s broken, but it will definitely bruise.” Allison gritted as she hobbled with Stiles away from the fight.

Scott soared through the air as the Yeti caught him with both feet, launching the werewolf clear directly into the nearest tree-trunk, landing with a sickening thud.

“Scott!” Allison called after his figure as it sunk to the snow.  “I’m okay, Stiles, please go help Scott.” She pulled herself to stand on her own, testing the weight on her injured limb, wincing a bit, but seemingly stable enough. 

Stiles nodded at her as he fished in his pack for the mini-cocktails.  The yeti turned to him as he pulled the vials out of his pack, glowing white eyes tinged with seething red anger.

He hesitated.

It lunged at him.

Stiles world went into slow motion as he watched the creature pull back for a surely fatal blow to a human.  He closed his eyes and waited for the end.

“Don’t close your eyes, you idiot!” Ry was suddenly in front of him holding back the Yeti’s giant fist with just one hand as his body illuminated a soft azure, what seemed like wisps of smoke emanating from his body.  “Go, run!” He yelled at Stiles as he deflected the blow from the Yeti’s other arm upwards, shaking its balance as he quickly rounded about, kicking the Yeti firmly in the chest. 

Stiles swore he had seen the same move in some Jet Li movie.  The Yeti actually flew back, before landing in the snow with a loud thump.  Flew back a good ten meters.

_What?_

Stiles was dumb folded. 

“What did you just do?  What are you even?” He was hysterical, yet happy.  Happy that apparently their handler was good at not only logistics and healing, but also kicked ass at fighting.  That and you know, the fact that he didn’t just die?

“Not now, go help Scott.” Ry commanded as he lunged closing the ten-meter gap in a matter of a second, as the Yeti recovered, roaring in a fit of rage.

Stiles shook himself, rushing over to a slowly recovering Scott, getting up clutching his left arm gingerly.

“Are you okay, dude?!” Stiles tried to sound as concerned as possible after seeing what he just saw.  It was hard not to be excited.

Scott grimaced as he straightened.  “Yeah, it’s already healing.  How’s Allison.” Concern was painted across his face.

“She’s bruised a bit, but okay overall.  Dude, did you just see what Ry did?”  Stiles had to geek out to someone.  He lasted all of thirty seconds, he was proud of himself.

“Yeah.  What was that?”  Scott sounded only slightly less amused, as he scrunched his face and stretched out his body.

“Guys, now is not the time to talk about that.” It was Allison over the comm.  “Ry needs help!”

The two looked over at Allison to see her aiming high with her bow.  Stiles followed the line of the shot to see a giant winged beast hovering over the slightly glowing Ry, who was picking up a rather large bolder like it was nothing before lobbing it straight at the beast, nicking its side as it tried to evade the projectile.  Allison fired her shot just as it evaded, the arrow sinking into the creature’s left flank.  If Stiles had to guess, he would say it was a Griffin, head of an eagle with a body of a lion, with extremely sharp talon-claws.

The creature shrieked in pain.

“What happened to the Yeti?” Scott wailed, confused.

“It is the Yeti, and the T-Rex.” Ry explained, panting a bit over the comm as he sprinted away from the creature’s sharp front talons, before jumping in the air, gripping the creature’s front leg and slamming it in to the ground like a boss.  It unfortunately recovered quickly, the snow acting as a gigantic cushion.

“What?” Stiles questioned.  “I knew it was a shape shifter!” He exclaimed moments later, getting it.

“Not exactly!” Ry shouted as the creature turned it’s massive eagle head and somehow, a fireball shot from it’s mouth; Ry dodged out of the way.  “Shape shifters can only turn into things that they’ve touched.  This is most definitely something else!” He dodged another fireball.

“Unless it touched a Yeti, a T-rex, and a Eagle-bird-lion-thingy.” Scott offered.

“Griffon, Scott.” Allison corrected over the comm before she fired three arrows at once, all sinking into the Griffin’s left wing.  The arrows collapsed the wing and it plummeted to the ground.

“Nice!” Stiles called, running towards the creature as it re-appeared out of the snow.  Only this time it was a nice shade of black, with large horns, and the feet of a goat.  A Minotaur.  Just wonderful.

He was seeing more supernatural and mythical creatures in one night than in all of the Harry Potter books.  He should not be so excited.  Really.

Stiles shook the thought as he threw one of the two vials at the Minotaur, but missed as it charged towards Allison to his left, the Molotov landing safely in the fluffy snow where it had been only moments ago.  He cursed loudly.

Allison’s eyes widened, as she couldn’t really run in her current condition.  The Minotaur-Griffin-T-Rex-Yeti was closing in on her fast.

“Aly!” Stiles came to the realization at the same time.  He fished desperately for something, eyes wandering over to the belt she wore.  It was his utility belt he made for her.   _Oh my good Buddha!_

“Aly! Back left pouch!  Back left pouch of your belt!”  He yelled over the comm, jumping up and down, pointing towards his left butt cheek.

She quickly opened the pouch and pulled out what looked like two heavy looking spheres attached with a rather sturdy looking cable.  She looked up at him confused for a second.

“Bola!  Bola! Throw it at its legs!  Wind up and then throw it!” Stiles quickly explained gesturing wildly with his arms as best he could.  And it only  _slightly_  looked like he was trying to tie his own arms in a knot.

The Minotaur was only a good ten meters away now.  She skillfully whirled the balls over her head before launching the bola straight at its skinny goat legs.  The bola came through, binding tightly around both legs, tripping the creature in the process. 

Stiles did an exaggerated fist pump as he quickly ran over and retrieved the Molotov, and ran within throwing range creature, chucking both vials directly at it’s back in the snow. Flames instantly erupted at impact, the creature flailed wildly in the snow, its legs still firmly tied by the cables of the bola.

Stiles wasn’t going to take any chances.  He fished back into his pack for the vial full of a clear liquid. 

“Everyone get down!” Stiles yelled as he threw the vial at the writhing creature, its shape changing as the flames licked at its flesh.  The vial shattered and a pillar of flame erupted around the shape-shifter, a large blast wave pushing Stiles down into the snow and disturbing all the snow within a 100-meter radius.

And that had been a little bit more volatile than he expected.  Okay, a lot more volatile.  He didn’t exactly get the chance to test all of this stuff out.

The blast had been enough to extinguish the flames, leaving a large, scorched crater where the creature had been tied down.

“Woah, Stiles, that was  _awesome_!” Scott ran over to high five his friend.

“Good work.” Ry walked over and patted him on the shoulder, looking distantly over to where the crater was.

Allison nodded to him from where she was standing, her leg obviously bothering her more than she let on.

“Well what about you guys?  You were freaking  _awesome_!  Scott all tackling it from the trees, Ry going all Bruce Lee on his ass, and Allison landing every single arrow, now that was a freaking good job guys!”  The adrenaline rush wasn’t really fading just yet.

Allison frowned.  “Guys, every arrow I hit that thing with, I laced _every_ shot with Kanima venom.  It should have been paralyzed, with the amount of venom it took.”

“Maybe it was immune?” Scott questioned, shrugging at his girlfriend.

Ry looked troubled at this news, before changing stances.  His blue glow returned as he whirled around blocking the blow from a large scorpion tail, effectively blocking it from connecting with Stiles and Scott.

Ry cursed through gritted teeth as the large stinger twisted in place and pierced his forearm pumping deadly venom into his system.

A Manticore, just great.

Stiles heard himself scream in his head as the azure faded and Ry slumped to the ground, wincing, saying something, but he couldn’t hear anything. 

 _No._  

Scott growled and launched himself at the creature taking a good chunk out of it’s chest with his claws, only to be batted away by a large paw, leaving deep gashes in his chest.  He could hear Allison scream Scott’s name as she knocked arrows and fired them, sinking a few more into the creature’s neck, but it effortlessly bounded over to the huntress growling menacingly as it stopped before her.  She dropped her bow, her leg not allowing her to nimbly dodge out of the way as she normally would.

_No. No, no, no, no._

It was like a mantra in his head.  He unconsciously grabbed another Molotov from his pack and flung it desperately at the creature.  It smashed on the Manticore’s left hind haunch, lighting it on fire.  It spun instantly around knocking Allison to the ground hard with its scorpion tail.  

It suddenly was in his face.  The flames snuffed out by the sudden movement from Allison to Stiles.  Its human head with shark like teeth and its red lion body seeming all to surreal at the moment.  It seemed like it was smirking at him, gloating in its victory.

 _So this is how I die?_  

Stiles found himself thinking as the creature opened it’s mouth and let out a deafening roar.  His ears rang fiercely from the intensity.  He oddly thought of Ry’s words and didn’t close his eyes, as its open mouth seemed to be coming closer, sharp teeth in a surprisingly high definition on this cold, snowy night.

And it’s a good thing he didn’t.  Or else he wouldn’t have seen the shadow of a snarling beast that slammed its hind legs directly into the creature’s side, moments before the Manticore could finish him off.  And he would have missed the creature flying a few meters before landing angrily in the snow, as the shadowy beast touched down gracefully in place.  And would’ve missed the beast turning to look directly at him, eyes glowing a deep, familiar crimson, under broody eyebrows and a scowl that could maim, mouthing what looked like his name as the ringing from the roar earlier hadn’t dissipated yet.  Although, he probably could've gone missing that last part.  

And he most definitely would have missed the strawberry blonde striding into the clearing after the shadow beast, a blonde male trailing closely behind the girl, the girl who was now glaring fiercely, angrily, directly at him.  Yeah, he definitely could have gone missing that last part.  Death by Manticore suddenly sounded absolutely  _heavenly_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger much? ;) Hope you enjoyed this and look forward to the next installment :D!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia has a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kinda did a take on what plot points I wanted to hit with this fic, and it's shaping up to be a pretty long one. Hope you're all okay with that. :) Betaed by the charismatic Caristia. Thanks for reading <3 (All mistakes are still mine. I added like 700 words after she betaed it lol).

“A-a-are you sure this is safe?” Isaac stuttered out a squeak as he stood in the middle of the deserted Lacrosse field, shifting nervously in place.  His pulse was skyrocketing as he flicked his gaze away from Lydia, who was standing, hands planted on her hips as she exasperatedly huffed a strand of hair away from her face, all while rolling her eyes.  Lydia was always great at multitasking. 

“Grow a pair, would you?” Lydia shot, narrowing her eyes, while tilting her head, eyebrows raised.

Jackson sniggered beside her before clearing his throat abruptly as Lydia shifted her look towards him.

A muffled crunching filled the silence as Derek ran his hand down his face; his foot doing unconscious taps on the Lacrosse field’s flora impatiently.  He inwardly groaned, as the wordless conversation between the three seemed to continue on a very  _mature_  level.  This was not what he had had in mind at all when Lydia had suddenly called him, demanding that he'd meet her at the High School immediately, at 11 PM no less.

“Isaac.” Derek snarled.

The boy flinched at the sound of his own name.  He shrunk his entire body down, as if being smaller would somehow make him less noticeable.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Erica moaned, dramatically tilting her head to the sky.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the bait.” Isaac mumbled prodding his pointer fingers together.

“Stilinski never complained about being bait.  And he was human, dude.” Jackson put his two-cents in.

Derek’s thoughts condensed on Jackson’s words.  He was right, Stiles never did complain about being bait, even though he was human, breakable.  He felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach.  “Just when did I start caring so much?” Derek chuckled to himself softly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Lydia glanced over to him, amused.

Had she heard that?  She was not a werewolf so he shrugged it off.  But she  _was_ standing right next to him.

Derek shook his head.  “Enough.  Let’s just do this.” He walked behind the bleachers.

“If you’re not  _bait_ , please step behind the bleachers.  Unless you would like to become a test subject, that is.”  Lydia’s mock concern was laced with venom; her impatience finding its way to the surface.

Erica rolled her eyes as she, Boyd, and Jackson made their way behind the bleachers.

“Right, now Isaac,” She smirked at the continually shrinking blonde, “just stand there and look pretty.  Pretend you’re Jackson, he’s very good at that.”  Lydia turned to smile at a quite dumbstruck Jackson, nodding at him.  “It’s a compliment, babe.”

Even Derek knew it wasn’t exactly a compliment.

Lydia gracefully strut over to a line drawn across the space between the bleachers, the exact border for the protection spell.  Lydia’s quickly gathered some candles and a pouch of sage, lavender, cinnamon, and other miscellaneous ingredients she had Jackson gather in an hour; it honestly smelled like potpourri to Derek.  But apparently it contained the ingredients for a quite powerful spell.

The air stilled as she began her spell. The already dark night, without the lights from the lacrosse field on, growing just a bit darker as the clouds that hung in the sky veiled the half moon. The faint glow of the candles seemed to intensify as Lydia murmured an unintelligible language, slowly raising her arms from her side to rest directly in front of her, palms flat against the air.  A small puff of air encircled her, as the strawberry blonde locks danced in the winds, the familiar smell of magic pervading the space around her.

Derek watched, intrigued by the progress Lydia had made in such a short time in the craft.  Stiles said she was some sort of prodigy, and he supposed he was right.  The veil of clouds above seemed to thicken as the flames from the candles flickered and danced in the growing winds, refusing to be blown out. The electrical feeling of a spell shot through Derek's entire body.  Except it didn’t seem to just be a feeling, as the now vortex of clouds above the Lacrosse field crackled with energy.

Derek’s eyes widened with surprise, she was actually conjuring a lightning storm?  Impressive.  She was also kind of scary.  A healthy fear of Lydia Martin was required if you were to be her friend and pack mate. Something Derek had learned early on when she had unknowingly been working for a deceased Peter Hale, who became very undead, and not even in the zombie type of way, which Stiles had actually sounded disappointed by at the time.

The lightning was dancing in the zephyr overhead, the torrents of winds coming in bursts causing the bleachers to creak with endurance.  Lydia’s eyes snapped open as she shouted something, immediately drowned out by the blinding flash of lightning and boom of thunder, the sound blasting the four onlookers backwards, the bolt of lightning striking directly where Isaac stood.

It was worse than the time he had set off that cherry bomb in the toilet, back in the fifth grade.  Derek’s ears rung as he blinked, the images of the lightning dancing in his vision.  He was writhing on the ground, gingerly clutching his head.

“Lydia.” Derek said, unsure of how loud he was speaking, as he was currently quite deaf.  He somehow managed to pull himself to his feet, all his heightened senses working against him at the moment.  He rubbed fruitlessly at his eyes as a hand came to rest on his shoulder.

Lydia was smirking down at him as she waved a hand over his face.  Suddenly the ringing, the double images, the anger—no the anger was still there, but everything else was magically gone.

“Could have warned us.” Derek grunted at her, as he looked over at his pack members currently writhing on the field. It was surprisingly bright, like someone had turned on the large field’s lights.   _Isaac._

He snapped his head over to where Isaac stood.  To where Isaac stood utterly still, eyes wide open in terror as the tip of a lightning bolt was frozen a mere inches from his nose.

Lydia stood up after treating the other wolves with her mojo.  “And that’s what a high level protection spell does.  Suspends animation.” She looked smug, smiling brightly at the rest of them.

“You just conjured a lightning bolt.  If that hit him, he would have been roasted!” Erica was clutching her face with both hands as she stumbled up to the border of the spell.  “What if the spell hadn’t activated in time?”  She looked over to Lydia.

“It was a chance I was willing to take.” She nodded once.  “He would have been fine.”  She waved off the incredulous looks they all shot her.  “No time to argue, get in place, they should be here soon.” She clapped her hands and poked and prodded away at the werewolves, herding them into the edge of the forest a mere 30 meters away.  “Hurry up!”

They all half-jogged into the cover of the trees, the bolt of lighting standing out even more from further away, its brightness definitely making a statement.  That and it was  _lightning_ , on a rather clear night, in the middle of a lacrosse field, and it was just _hanging_ there.

“Whom are we waiting for?” Erica whispered, crouched down next to a tree trunk.

Derek could feel Lydia rolling her eyes.  “We are waiting for the Agency people to come investigate.  The activation of their spell leaves a small window of time for them to get here.  I expect them within twenty minutes.” She explained with extreme prejudice.

“If the protection spell is so powerful, aren’t you afraid the people coming to check it out will be powerful, too?  I mean I have no doubts that  _you_  could handle anything, but even you admitted this spell was out of your league.  And we are three members down.  Well, two and a half.”  Boyd questioned carefully.

Derek growled unconsciously at the ‘half” comment.  Stiles was definitely not a half.  Why was he even having this conversation with himself?

Lydia sighed. “Look, when you get a security system installed, and your security alarm goes off, do you send the installation guy or a police squad car to investigate?”

Silence.

“Judging on how long they took to cast the spells over all the areas which, I’m guessing Stiles designated as frequent enough to cast on, there are maybe one or two at the most who are capable of casting this caliber of spell.  They will send someone to investigate before they send in a full squad, a mage who can dispel it at the most. But the person who cast the spell originally has to be busy, so they will most likely stop by later to recast it, you know like at normal business hours?” 

Derek didn’t think it was possible for someone to be both smug and annoyed at the same time.  He was clearly wrong.

And what she said  _was_  smart.  How she deduced this on the dot, Derek didn’t really know. Stiles would normally gush at her exuberance and brilliance by now.  The silence that followed was bittersweet.

“And what exactly are we going to do with some half-rate security guard or mage?  How will this help us exactly?” Erica sounded annoyed herself.

“Look.  I didn’t expect any of you to understand; with the time constraints we had I had to act fast, hence the lack of explanation earlier.  But, if we can subdue said ‘half-rate security guard or mage’, _that_ , we can work with.” Her smirk could be heard in her voice.

“Oh.” Erica replied flatly.

“Someone is coming.” Derek could hear the crunching of the grass beneath a pair of feet.  She had been right, surprise, surprise.

“Right on time.  Must’ve had someone planted in town, Stiles must have struck  _some_  deal.” Her usual tone dropped a bit.

The figure stopped in awe, slowly strafing around the border of the spell, trying to make heads or tails of the situation.

“Quickly, before he can report in for backup.”  Lydia hissed.

“Won’t they get suspicious if he doesn’t report in?” Boyd voiced quickly.

“Less dumb questions, more abducting.” Lydia began sprinting towards the figure in pumps, the werewolves quickly overtaking her.

Jackson was the quickest.  What he lacked in experience since he turned into a wolf, falling behind in strength and endurance compared to the others who had been werewolves longer, he made up in agility.  He was definitely the fastest in the bunch.  He appeared behind the man, bashing the guy behind the head before he had the chance to even whip around.  He slowly slumped to the field.

“Jackson!” Lydia shrieked, finally catching up with them.

Jackson shrugged at her, picking up the guy, an arm under each armpit.  The guy was out cold, but he was alive.

Lydia rolled her eyes.

The man looked like he was in his mid-thirties, he was dressed in a simple black hoodie with dark blue jeans and a baseball cap.  For all intents and purposes, he looked like a normal guy going jogging at night.

“Are you sure this is the right guy?  He looks like he was just going for a jog around the school.” Erica questioned, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Who goes jogging at 11:28 PM?” Lydia shook off the question without sparing even a glance towards the blonde.

Erica glared.

“Check his pockets.  That’s how we’ll know.” Lydia waved her arms at the mysterious man.

Derek could smell something strange.  It was coming from his left pocket. He fished around, finding a small pouch of something and he carefully pulled it out.

“And that my friends is a pouch of allay.” Lydia smiled, doing a small victory dance in place.  Very Stiles-esque, she must  _really_  miss him.

“Pouch of—“ Boyd started.

“Pouch of allay, they are pouches made with specific ingredients to dispel very specific spells.  I’m guessing this one is for,” She gestured knowingly at the lightning bolt display in front of them.

“If we dispel it, won’t Isaac get struck by the lightning?” Erica asked sincerely, pointing at the extremely conspicuous light source.

Lydia opened her mouth, and then closed it with a click.  “Derek, go get Isaac.”

She grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him close.  “Don’t open the pouch until you’re clear.  My spell will delay the pouch from deactivating the spell, but if you open it, nothing can prevent the specific effects of that pouch.” She eyed the pouch carefully before touching it lightly and mumbling a quick spell.  “Okay, go.”

Derek carefully stepped beyond the border, the weird sensation of magic and time warping around him.  It was almost like jumping into something with the consistency of lime Jello. Because lime was the weirdest flavor for a dessert, he never really liked the sour dessert stuff.  The irony.  He sluggishly made his way towards Isaac, the terror in his eyes exactly the same as ten minutes ago.  He reached out his arm and grasped Isaac’s wrist, finding it hard to move him since the boy seemed stuck.  He tried again, this time using his other hand, the hand with the pouch, to assist a bit.

A blood-curdling scream pierced the vale.  Isaac had unfrozen the second the pouch had touched his skin.  He was currently panting, eyes crossed  _staring_  directly at the tip of the lighting bolt threatening to singe his eyebrows. 

Isaac began slapping at Derek.  “Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!” He squealed, eyes wrenched shut.

“Isaac.  It’s stopped.” Derek gestured to the lightning bolt that clearly hadn’t moved an inch for the last 11 minutes.

“Oh.” Isaac’s face turned to Lydia.  “You!  You could have roasted me!” He flailed his arms, slapping Derek’s hand, sending the pouch slowly careening to the ground.

“Shit.” Derek said, quickly hauling Isaac over his shoulder and sprinting towards the rest of them.

He made it all of five steps before the ground exploded behind him, sending chunks of singed dirt, and burning grass, and Isaac and Derek airborne in all directions.

They landed at Lydia’s feet.  She shook her head looking down at them, before turning about and stomping off towards their cars.

The gigantic blackened hole in the Lacrosse field was  _hardly_  noticeable.

 

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

They found themselves once again at the Hale estate, gathered around the regular meeting table.  With one extra person, tied tightly to an armchair, still unconscious.

“Just how hard did you hit him, Jacks?” Lydia sighed looking at her watch.

Derek checked the time on his phone.  11:50, it had been thirty minutes since the guy had shown up at the lacrosse field.  Someone would be getting suspicious soon if he didn’t report in, Derek guessed.

“Oh, try this.” Erica whipped out a small tube from her purse.

“Smelling salts?  How do you even have these?” Isaac asked, picking it out of her hand and rolling the tube between his forefinger and thumb.

Erica shrugged casually.  “I would carry them on me in case I blacked out after a seizure.” 

“For years after you were cured of them?” Boyd spoke up, earning himself a glare.  He put up his hand apologetically, backing down.

“Stiles told me to carry them around.  Just in case, okay?” Erica relented, sighing.  “I miss my Batman.” She murmured.

Derek eyed her carefully, snatching the salt from Isaac before breaking the tube and wafting it under the unconscious man’s nose.

He awoke with a start.  His eyes widened as he realized he was tied up.

“What’s going on?  Help!  Someone!” He began screaming at the top of his lungs.

Lydia casually opened her purse and pulled out a sock, calmly shoving it into his mouth with a smile on her face.

“Just a second, and we will be right with you, sir.”  She cooed at him, pulling out a second vial, a red liquid sloshing around inside, before flicking her eyes towards Derek.

Derek uncrossed his arms and leaned forward a bit.  “What?”

“Just a sec,” Lydia said as she uncorked the vial, pulling the sock forcefully out of the man’s mouth and shoving the potion directly into his mouth, pinching his nose before he could spit it out.

“What the hell did you just do to me?” The man screeched, yanking desperately at his restraints.  “I swear—“

“Three, two—“ Lydia began counting.

“If you don’t release me I’m going to—“

“One, and zero.” Lydia smiled as the man went complacent.  She patted Derek’s shoulder, “Your turn.”

Derek was confused, what did she want him to do?  He was clearly not being cooperative and he didn’t see how drugging him would make him want to spill his secrets or help them find their pack.

Lydia sighed.  “I used your blood to make a position.  It makes the imbiber extremely susceptible to the orders of an alpha, as if they were their alpha.  Naturally, it only works with alpha blood, and an actual alpha.” She waved him off.

“Why doesn’t she just explain these things ahead of—“ Isaac was cut off by a glaring Lydia.

“She’s just so brilliant.” Isaac finished chuckling nervously.

Derek rolled his eyes.

“Just command him like you would one of your betas.” Lydia shrugged.

“We are looking for Scott McCall, Allison Argent, and Stiles Stilinski.  They joined your organization just over a week ago.  Talk.”

The man’s face twisted a bit, as if he was attempting to fight what he was about to say.  
“I don’t know their whereabouts, I was just told to stay here and investigate in the case of the Protaegis spells being activated.”  He looked confused.

“Protaegis spell?  That’s an ancient spell.” Lydia hummed, writing down some notes with her fuzzy pink pen.

“Well, can you find out their whereabouts?” Derek was growling.  His betas stepped back by pure instinct.

The man looked shaken.  “I can call and ask?”

“Do it.  And while you’re at it, report in that the spell you went to investigate was a miss-fire.  Or something, make it sound convincing.”  He nodded towards Lydia, as she handed him the cell phone they confiscated and untied his right hand.

The man shakily dialed a number.  “This is Berkley.  The Protaegis spell was activated by a storm.  One of Hale’s pack was caught in it.  No need to send the squad.  But just curious, how are those guys doing?  Well I’m stuck in this town now, I’d like to know if it’s all for nothing.  Uh huh.”

There was a long pause as the man listened.  Derek couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation it was infuriating.  His eyes began to bleed red.

The man jumped in his chair as he looked up at the glowing eyes, forcing Derek to will himself down. 

 _Man and a giraffe walk into a bar and have many drinks, so many in fact that the giraffe passes out and falls to the floor.  The man pays his tab and gets up to leave when the bartender says, “Oy! You can’t leave that ‘lyin there!” The man replies, “That isn’t a lion, it’s a giraffe.”_  

He clearly remembers face palming as Stiles told him that joke, but now, he could chuckle at it, while feeling the alpha blood recede.

“Interesting.  Thanks, Playcott.”  He hung up the phone.

“Well?” Derek asked impatiently, before the man could even put down the phone.

“Apparently, they did an amazing job in Montana, cleared out all the MSC’s in a very large radius.  They were sent to Michigan about 6 days ago, but the Agency lost contact with them and sent a small team to investigate.  They lost contact with the team four days ago.”  He finished, his voice falling a bit.  “They were just kids.”

Derek couldn’t contain the rage anymore, he wolfed out flipping the table in front of him.

His betas' eyes flashed, sharing his rage.

“Enough!” Lydia commanded.  “We aren’t going accomplish anything by doing that!” She was yelling now.  “Ask him exactly where they were when they lost contact.”

“Answer her.” It came out more of a snarl than actual words, his wolf form dangerously close to taking full control.

“Michigan, Huron National Forest.  They last reported in near an Agency cabin at these coordinates.” Lydia handed him a pen and paper.  He quickly scribbled down some coordinates.

Lydia whipped out her phone and plugged in the co-ordinates, nodding at Derek as she confirmed the area.

“I’m really sorry, but to be honest, I don’t think you will find them.  Not alive anyways.  After an entire search team goes missing as well, policy is to assume KIA status.  Sorry for your losses, but their contract states that even in the event of death, all specified persons are to be protected indefinitely.  So you can take comfort in that.”

Derek reeled his hand back to strike the man.  It wasn’t even really his fault, but the insinuation that they were  _dead_.  It was too much for him at the moment.

Lydia placed a hand on his shoulder as she waved her other hand over the man’s face.  He fell asleep instantly.

“Erica, Isaac, take this man back to the field.  He won’t remember what he told us; just that he was investigating the spell.”

Erica flinched, clearly not liking to be told what to do. 

“Boyd,” Lydia fished out an envelope from her purse.  “Find Danny and give him this.  Tonight or tomorrow morning by the latest, it’s of the utmost importance.”  She turned to Jackson and Derek.  “You two, pack a bag and we will meet back here within the hour.  Boys, we're going to Michigan.  Pack warm.” 

Everyone stared at her, mouths slightly agape.

“Now?”  Lydia snapped her fingers twice. 

Everyone instantly dispersed in a flurry of limbs.

 

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

How Lydia was able to secure them a flight in the middle of the freaking night, Derek would never know.  All he knew was that after glaring at what seemed to be the only person actually working at the airport, besides the security guards, for ten minutes to no avail, Lydia simply strode up to him, twirled her hair, and in the blink of an eye they had boarding passes for a standby red-eye flight.  A flight that wasn’t even supposed to leave due to the low amounts of passengers, as in they were the only three on the flight.  He wondered if she had just bought the plane from them.  He wouldn’t put it past her.  He shrugged, oh well, it wasn’t as if Derek particularly liked flying, he was actually a nervous flyer.  He preferred his feet on the ground, running around, but he could endure flights if he absolutely had to. 

_Stiles could be dead.  They all could be dead._

The thoughts he had been clenching in the back of his mind came flooding to his consciousness as the plane's engines started up.  Lights from the airport flickered by as they made their way across the tarmac; the thoughts stirred up in his head seemed all too surreal.  The seat divider cracked under the death grip he hadn’t known he was giving it, a surprising noise that jolted him back to reality.

“They are  _fine_ , Derek.  Stop damaging the plane and just relax.  We should be there in four hours.”  Lydia had leaned over and whispered to him.  You would think that with a plane all to themselves, they would have spread out a bit.  But no, here they were squished together in the middle isle of the plane, right next to each other.  Must be a pack thing.

“How can you be sure?” Derek found himself responding, letting go of the damaged divider.

“I just know.  Can’t you feel it too?”  Lydia looked hopeful; the sassy, sarcastic girl was nowhere to be seen as he glanced over to her.

Derek shrugged.  He couldn’t really feel anything.  He felt nothing bad, but nothing especially good.  But he supposed that if something bad had happened to his pack, he would feel  _something._   Right?  He was their alpha after all, well at the most Scott’s alpha.  He casually turned his head back towards the confident girl.  The girl he knew to put up such a strong façade, no matter the situation.  And yet even she had shown signs of hesitation at the beginning.  But now, as she sat in her seat next to him, she really did seem relaxed, and suddenly he knew why.  Because in all of this, in everything that was happening, the most utterly horrible feeling of all was feeling helpless. Like there was absolutely nothing he could do to fix this.  But now, as the plane began it’s ascent, he knew he was doing something, he knew that even though this was a shot in the dark, it was something to do, something that could be done, something that didn’t leave them helpless.  Derek turned his head and sighed, closing his eyes to get some rest before they landed.

“And to answer your question, back at the field, when you came to realize that he cared, too.” Lydia whispered.

Derek smiled, drifting off slowly, not truly knowing if she had actually said it, or not.

 

 

*                                  *                                  *

 

The flight and landing were pretty uneventful.  It was rather cold when they landed, the signs of some sort of storm raging closely was apparent by the severe weather warnings over the past few days that flashed on the televisions that they passed by in the terminals.  For once he was happy that his license said he was over twenty-five, as renting a car was something they absolutely needed to do if they were going to drive to this Huron National Park, which ended up being miles away from the airport they touched down in.  It was about 10 o’clock now, seeing as they lost two hours crossing over the time zones, their flight leaving California around 4 AM Pacific.

It was pure irony that the only vehicle left for renting was a black SUV.  He couldn’t help but feel like a hunter as he drove out of the rental lot with Lydia navigating them along the empty highways towards the national forest.  Jackson sat quietly in the back, as Lydia would occasionally check her phone to make sure they were on the right roads.  The drive was long and monotonous, the roads were slick with snow and often times they had to slow down or risk spinning out on what looked like patches of black ice.  They eventually had to stop for some food and bathroom breaks along the way, finally arriving at the park gates around six in the afternoon.  It was already beginning to get dark.  The gates to the park were unsurprisingly closed, as the weather had been wreaking havoc over the last few days in the area, to the bafflement of the local meteorologists.  They parked the SUV around the corner, hidden from the main road and decided to hike in.  They bundled up as much as they possibly could as the sun set in the east, leaving the trail, cold, and extremely dark.

A hike through the snow-filled forest at night wasn’t a walk in the park, even though it technically was a walk through a park.  They followed Lydia’s directions as they made a turn here and there, stopping ever once in a while to make sure that her phone’s GPS wasn’t malfunctioning, as something in the area was blocking her cell signal.

She paused suddenly.

“What?” Derek asked, turning around, having noticed the absence of footsteps.

“Something,” She replied, closing her eyes. Her hair was tied back into a tight ponytail, fluffy earmuffs tightly covering her ears. Lydia had chosen a black snow jacket with a fluffy collar which contrasted the black she was all in. She shivered slightly.  “There’s a spell here.” She finally finished.  “I almost missed it.  But as we move closer to these coordinates, I feel it getting stronger.”

“What kind of spell?” Jackson asked, to Derek’s surprise.  He usually filled the role of quiet companion or snarky insinuator.

“Actually,” Lydia replied, looking around, squinting in the dark, “It’s the weather, I think.  I’ve felt it since we landed, that’s why I didn’t notice it at first.”  She nodded to herself.

“The snowstorm?  That’s the spell?”  Derek inquired, skepticism in his voice.

“I didn’t think so at first.  But, it’s a gigantic spell, and it seems to be centralizing around this park.”  She looked at her phone again.

A light wind stirred the pines overhead, shaking a light powder from the branches.  A faint, yet familiar smell carried on the winds.  Derek froze.  “I smell blood.”  He crouched low to the ground.

“Yeah, I can smell it, too, it’s smells really old.  And frozen.” Jackson pinched his nose, his face twisting slightly. 

Lydia poked at him.  “Go sniff it out then.”

Jackson sighed and followed the scent, Derek close behind, looking around suspiciously.  They tracked the scent to a path cutting through the forest, a meager asphalt trail laid between the rows of trees, barely visible now as the snow blanketed most of the ground.  A series of lumps in the white powder caught their attention.

“What’s that?” Lydia pointed at the mounds of snow peppering the trail, fairly close together.

“I have an idea.” Derek replied grimly, walking over to the nearest pile.  He knelt to push some of the snow away, reeling back a bit at the sight underneath. 

Lydia put a hand over her mouth to stifle the squeak she made.  Jackson pulled her close.

Beneath the surface of the mound laid a body.  Or rather what was left of a body. It had been badly mutilated, but was surprisingly well preserved, as the snow had frozen the remains probably only hours after the time of death, a time of death close to four days ago, he guessed. 

“It’s not—it’s not  _them_ , right?” Lydia’s voice waivered, close to breaking as she buried her head into Jackson’s shoulder.

The shape of a human body was nearly unrecognizable, but the person that lay in the snow had to be over the age of thirty, at least. He couldn’t honestly guess gender at this point, but he was sure he'd be able to smell it if it had been Stiles, Scott, or Allison. 

“No, I don’t think so, I’d be able to identify their scent, and none of these are them.”  Derek replied reassuringly, noting the dark colored clothing, the combat boots, and what looked like the remains of communication devices.

“It’s the team.  The one the Agency sent after them, the one that guy was talking about, right?” Jackson piped up, a surprisingly astute observation.

He simply nodded.  Derek was extremely relieved to not find the bodies of his friends and pack mates left lying in the snow. No one deserved this type of death.  He shook his head, covering the body once again with snow. 

Lydia went rigid.  “Whatever did this was doused with powerful magic.”  She detached herself from Jackson to run a hand over the nearest snow-covered body.  “Strong, black magic.  Oh, wow, I’ve never felt this sort of residual energy.  Who or whatever did this, they are dabbling in some extremely dangerous mojo.” She pulled her hand back as if she had been burned.

“We should continue, we don’t know if whatever got them could still be around.  And if it is, we need to find Scott, Allison, and Stiles.”  Derek explicated.

Jackson and Lydia nodded as they walked around the mounds, the graves, heading back into the forest towards the coordinates that marked their destination.

Lydia stared at her phone in the dark as they continued.  “According to the this GPS, we should be getting close soon.”  She looked around hopefully.

Jackson moved over to drape an arm over her shoulder, rubbing her arm gently.  She smiled at him; seeming still a bit shaken by their latest discovery. 

Derek absently wondered if he would ever find someone to do that with, someone he cared about, and someone who he found funny, and infuriating, and annoying.  Somehow he had gotten off track there.

“Hey, do you guys smell something?” Jackson was sniffing the air.

Derek sniffed at the air, catching the scent of something cooking.  Something with bacon and cheddar, not too far from here.

What sounded like an explosion, followed by a series of small earthquakes sounding somewhere far to the east of their location shook the earth beneath them.

Lydia fumbled with her phone, eyes going wide.  “That’s the direction of the cabin.” The glow of the phone was the only thing illuminating the worry now present in her expression.

“Hurry!”  Derek barked, as they took off to the east, trudging through the snow and weaving through the trees.

“I hear someone.” Jackson panted as he ran, pulling off his own earmuffs to hear better, Lydia trailing not far behind.  “It’s Allison, and Scott.  Sounds like they’re fighting something!  I hear Stiles, too and one other person!”  Jackson was in the lead.

They doubled their speed.  Lydia was falling behind, not able to keep up with the werewolves.  Jackson hung back, shouting “Go ahead Derek!” with the worry in his voice easy to hear. Derek would have smirked if he hadn't been able to hear the danger.  Something was wrong; he could feel it even before he could hear it.  He prayed they would get there in time.

“Maybe it was immune?” Scott questioned.

He could barely make out their voices over the sound of his own heartbeat, but they were close now.  Someone was groaning in pain.  Then Scott, was he growling?  A thud.  He recognized the sound of someone getting utterly clocked, mixed with the sound of tearing flesh.  The feeling in his stomach intensified.

“Scott!” Allison was screaming his name as he heard arrows pierce something’s hide.  He was approaching a clearing.  He heard glass shatter as the trees thinned out, spotting a massive creature, half lion, half scorpion, rest of  _something_  else, standing over Stiles, belting out a deafening roar.  He stopped as it began to lean in towards the boy.

_Stiles!_

His heart stopped.   _No._

Derek didn’t even remember when he began running again, when his heart started to beat once more.  The next thing he knew, his vision was tinted red as he kicked the creature distinctly _away_ from  _his pack_.  He landed as his sight cleared, the crunch of fresh snow beneath his feet. He glared at the dumbstruck boy standing ankle deep in the white powder.

“Stiles.” Derek grunted out, his growl wavered slightly.  He narrowed his glowing eyes.

“Stiles Stilinski, you are in so much deep shit!” Lydia’s voice pierced the night as she stepped into the clearing, followed closely by Jackson.  The look on her face was deadlier than any he had ever seen before.  He could relate with her, he really could.  But right now he pushed it aside, as the creature he drop kicked began to recover, looking pissed. 

Whatever this was, the fight was _far_ from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! ;)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions wait as the battle rages on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry about the delay! I was seriously having trouble writing this chapter, please let me know if you'd like me to continue this fic! I actually proofread this chapter once, but still all mistakes are my own! UPDATE: 10/5 Betaed thanks to Caristia. Aaaand some quality of life changes. I may or may not have edited the tags as well.

Despite the initial blow of encountering the only other two people in the world that would especially _want_ to murder him, he found himself extremely _elated_ that he wasn’t kibbles and bits for the Manticore.  Well, the two people besides the creature that was currently the Manticore that could possibly want him dead.  It had a kind of human head in this form, which means it counts as a person, right?  Stiles refused to be racist-- creatureist, whatever.  He was an equal opportunistic target, and most definitely not a bigot.

The persistent ringing that was currently jarring his brains into mush seemed to dwindle as he gained his bearings, precariously getting up from the snow.  He rapidly blinked as his vision swam, when exactly had he fallen?  Oh right, there _might_ have been a momentary blackout of _minuscule_ proportions when the glare of one Lydia Martin had impaled through his frontal lobe.  And right, apparently Derek, Lydia, and Jackson were here now, in Michigan.  The confusion of all the events that got jam packed into the last ten seconds was clearly hindering the whole lucidity process.

_Scott._

_Allison._

_Ry!_

Shit.  He kicked himself for forgetting.  Dread grasped his gut, spinning around, while he searched desperately for his fallen comrades.  His eyes fell on the seething strawberry blonde quickly walking towards him.  He swore he could see smoke bellowing out of her ears as she stomped towards him.

“Lydia!” Stiles yelled.  “Scott and Allison!  Find them, they’re hurt!  And Ry!  Find Ry!” He failed to mask the desperation in his voice, his eyes widening as he replayed the Manticore poisoning his handler while protecting him and Scott, Scott being torn new breathing holes in his chest, and the look on Allison’s face as she dropped her bow in his head.  His stomach lurched as he wobbled in place.  He grit his teeth, fighting back the urge to hurl.

_They better be okay._

Lydia flashed a confused look, shaking it off as she temporarily diverted her warpath, searching for Scott, Allison, and Ry, pulling something out of her purse.

“Who’s Ry?” A strong hand grasped Stiles’s shoulder, causing him to spaz out in place.

“Holy ninja freaking werewolf!  I see you for all of ten seconds before you decide its time again to scare the _freaking_ hell out of me!”  Stiles shifted uncomfortably, his hand clawing into the spot over his heart. 

 _Nope, pants still dry, I’m good._ He was relieved that he hadn’t _relieved_ himself by accident.

Derek’s growl rolled deep and low.

Holy crap.  Did Derek just go straight to Plan B of murdering Stiles?  Death by surprise failed, moving on to utilizing werewolf teeth and claws.  He slowly looked up at the rumbling wolf.

Derek’s eyes were bleeding red, but thankfully focused on something else.  Focused on the Manticore, which was now sporting a _lovely_ shade of Hydra.  Stiles pushed down the urge to take out his phone and snap a picture.  What?  He was a sucker for Greek mythos.  But his brain did choose to at least acknowledge the inappropriateness that it would bring to the situation.  Although, it did look a bit awkward with so many heads and just two tiny little feet as it hobbled towards them, definitely looked much cooler online.

Derek wasted no time, catapulting himself at the creature, fangs beared and claws reared, but was immediately struck aside like the world’s broodiest sock puppet by one of the creature’s many, many, large heads, as the remaining six hissed intensely.

Jackson suddenly materialized out of nowhere, launching himself on the creature’s back, clawing tightly to one of its necks as it reared around, thrashing its heads violently.  He slashed at the base of its nape tie-dyeing the bleached snow below in a mist of emerald scales and hydra blood.  The creature reared in pain, doubling its efforts to swat at the werewolf clinging to it’s back.  

In a blur Derek careened out of the snow from where he fell, slamming both of his feet squarely into its broad chest, a dull cracking sound spiking through the air.  The Hydra teetered backwards from the blow; Jackson quickly detaching himself, landing gracefully in the snow to avoid being crushed beneath its titanic body.

“Stiles!” Lydia hollered.   She was holding Allison’s head in her lap, a tendril of blood leaking from Allison’s forehead down her left cheek.

“Lydia!  Is she…?” Stiles stopped, gritting his teeth.  He couldn’t even bring himself to finish his own question. 

“No, she’s just unconscious.  Give me a minute or two to heal her.  Find Scott and that other guy.”  She commanded, closing her eyes as her hand began glowing neon green as she ran it slowly over Allison’s head.

Stiles nodded fervently.  “Her leg was injured earlier too!” He shouted over his shoulder, running over to where he remembered Ry dropping.  He slowed as he approached a small crater in the snow, a faint blue glow radiating from it.

The fight between the two werewolves and the Hydra was raging behind him as he peeked into the small depression in the snow, a grimacing and pale Ry coming into view.

“Ry!” Stiles didn’t bother to hide the concern in his voice, the snow crunching as he dropped to his knees next to the man.  “W-what are you doing?  Are you okay?” He reached out, stopping short of touching his arm, blue wisps of light radiating from his body.

“I’m rejecting the poison.” Ry gritted out,  “It’s actually a lot harder than it sounds, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been poisoned.”  He offered Stiles a wry smile.

“Um, it already sounds impossible?  I mean you can do that?” Stiles sounded only a bit incredulous, which meant it was only a bit of an inappropriate time to geek out.

Ry nodded as a reply.  “Almost done.”  The wound where the stinger pierced his forearm was healing.

Stiles let out a breath.  “Good.  And wait.  Is this part of your phoenix thing?  I thought that was like healing others?”  He couldn’t help his curiosity, no matter how inapt the timing was.  Logic: 1 Curiosity: 4.  He was fighting a losing battle, really.

Ry actually chuckled.  “Sort of.  Remember when I said I was blessed by the Phoenix instead of my sister?”

Stiles nodded thoughtfully where he was on his knees.

“It was a surprise because I was already born as a guardian.”  Ry sighed as the azure light faded.  He propped himself up on his elbows, looking around.  He seemed a lot paler than usual.  “I thought I sensed them earlier.” He smirked as Stiles helped him up.

“Guardian?”  Stiles really needed to get back into reality.  Get back to the reality that included injured friends and a pissed off Hydra-Yeti-T-rex-Manticore-Griffin thing.

“Aegis, by the Greeks, Norse, and Egyptians.” Ry panted, grabbing Stiles by the arm and pulling him away from the fight.

“I’ve never heard of that.”  Mumbled Stiles, letting himself be led away.  He was only a bit miffed that Ry was something he already didn’t know about.  He would make sure to look it up later.

“Not surprised, it’s not exactly in the books, but the word, aegis, was actually derived from Guardians, but there’s no real history in the books about them.”  Ry stopped, dropping down to dig in the snow.

“Oh.  Cool.” Stiles couldn’t help but sound a bit confused.  “I’m guessing though, the Agency doesn’t know this about you either?” He cocked his head.

Snow flew in all directions as Ry dug.  “Nope, not in so many words, anyways.”  He grunted.

Stiles peeked over his shoulder, where a half buried Scott lay; the snow below him shaded a deep red.

“Shit!  Scott?”  Stiles stumbled over to help unearthing the rest of his friend from the snow.  He desperately looked over to Ry.

“He’s healing.” Ry nodded, “he should be okay his life force is still strong.  It’s how I found him so quickly.” He carefully rearranged Scott in a sitting position, the boy groaning softly as he was moved.  The deep gashes along Scott’s chest were mending together slowly; Stiles shook his head in relief.

Shadows suddenly cast in front of them as the familiar glow of fire radiated from somewhere behind.  Stiles peered over his shoulder.  The fight was still raging, except now, the Hydra had decided to start breathing fire, all seven of it’s heads.

“Stiles, stay with Scott.”  Ry said as he gently pushed Scott to lean against Stiles’s shoulder.  He got up from the snow, breaking into a jog towards the fight, the blue wisps radiating from his skin.

Stiles couldn’t help but worry.  Seriously, what the hell was that thing?  It was like a shape-shifter; only shape shifters can’t be dinosaurs or a whole array of different mythical creatures, right?  And they had seriously beaten its furry ass down, _and_ burned it, yet it still persisted.  It’s like with every shape it takes, it gains more strengths, the strengths of whatever it turns into.

_Oh._

Stiles had an idea.  But he would definitely need everyone for this to even work.  He looked over to the healing werewolf in his arms.  “Scotty, hurry up and heal already!”  He sighed.

“Shuddup Stiles.” Scott whined, slowly opening his eyes.  He shoved at Stiles as he got up, eyes widening at the sight before him.

Ry had rejoined the battle; Lydia was still crouched over Allison healing her.  The two werewolves and the-- guardianpheonixryguy skirting a perimeter around the fire-breathing Hydra as it either whipped at them with one of its heads or showered the area in flames.

“What the _hell_ is that?” Scott sounded confused.

“Confusion.  Confusion is good.  Means you’re back to you.  Guess I don’t have to worry about head trauma then.”  Stiles punched his friend on his shoulder as Scott shot him a look.  Stiles sighed.  “It’s a Hydra.  Well it’s the same creature that we were fighting before only now all conveniently packaged in a neat little Hyrda form.”

“Oh.” Scott deflated.

“Come on!” Stiles jostled Scott as he took off towards the fight.

Scott overtook Stiles charging over to Allison to have a little lover’s reunion, you know in the middle of a fight with a Hydra.  Stiles locked eyes with Derek, his breath catching in his lungs for a moment.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  He was surprisingly okay with his hypocrisy right now.  A cloud of fire shot in his direction, a flurry of flailing limbs plowed into the snow, barely saving him from becoming a well-done Stiles-kabob.  There was a familiar heavy weight crushing him into the crunchy powder.  It smelled all piney and fresh. He was flushing, his heart hammering in his chest as the weight quickly rolled off of him, a curt growl and a strong arm pulling him quickly out of the snow.

“Can you stop almost dying?” Derek grunted as he dusted off his leather jacket.

Stiles narrowed his eyes.  “You don’t _have_ to keep saving me you know.  I’m perfectly capable of saving myself.”  He stuck his nose in the air.  He totally was grateful to be saved—twice nonetheless in a matter of minutes, but hell if he was going to let Derek get some twisted sort of satisfaction out of it.  He only got a grunt and a glare as a response.  Typical.  He rolled his eyes as he reached into his pack to grab a couple comms before shoving it into the sour wolf’s chest.  “Here, give one to Jacks too.”

Derek took it without another word, shoving it a bit forcefully into his ear before stalking off towards the Hydra, who was currently playing with a wolfed out Jackson and a glowy blue Ry.

It was frustrating.  Frustrating that Stiles didn’t even know why he was frustrated.  He was clearly happy, yet annoyed.  And why the hell was his heart being so damned fast now?  

But he needed to focus.  The Hydra first, stupid sour wolves second, analyzing strange feeling can come later on, right, now he had his priorities in order.  He searched around for Lydia, finding her still crouched in the snow running a hand over Allison’s leg.  At least Allison seemed lucid now.

“Aly!  Are you alright?” Stiles kneeled next to her, quickly handing a comm over to Lydia before looking over Allison.

“I’m okay, Lydia is taking care of it.” She sounded relieved, flashing him a small smile.

“I actually can’t heal this now.  It would take too much time and energy.  I’m going to just take away the pain, so don’t overdo it.”  Lydia’s eyes opened as the light faded from her hand.  “There we go.  But like I just said, it is not healed, so the more you agitate it, the more pain you will be in once the spell ends.”

Flexing her leg in a range of motions, Allison got up, nodding quickly at Lydia before helping the strawberry blonde up.  “Thanks.”  Allison nodded.

“Oh!  So I have a theory!  On how to beat,” Stiles looked over at the Hydra, who now somehow had nine heads.

“Really guys?  Who chopped two of its heads off?”  Lydia yelled at the meek looking men dodging around the creature.  She sighed as she turned back to Stiles.

“It’s not a normal creature, is it?  Ry said it was sort of like a shape shifter, except not.  Which is totally not completely helpful.  At all!”  Stiles knew he sounded of nonsense and by now his flailing level had reached at least 4.

Lydia smiled.  And not even those fake smiles, or the ‘I’m going to kill you in your sleep smiles’.  She was sporting an actual god-honest smile, sharp teeth neatly tucked behind her luscious lips and all.

_Yep, I’m going to die right now._

“Oh Buddha, the creature shape shifted into Lydia and is about to eat me!” Stiles squeaked, quickly backing away.

“Shut it.” Lydia smacked him on the arm, shifting her eyes away.  “I just, missed your,” She eyed him up and down briefly, “you-ness.” 

The sudden hope of surviving spread quickly though him; he couldn’t help the smile he returned to the terrifying girl he held a candle for, for more than 10 years, but in that moment, he just felt the friendship they shared, and wanted nothing more.

A yelping Scott once _again_ careening through he air broke his thoughts.  And seriously, this best friend of his spent more time flying though the air and being knocked out than actually fighting.  He decided on an application process for new friend screening, yes, that would work.  Question one: When in a fight with the supernatural do you find yourself: A) Fighting like a boss B) Winning like a boss C) Running like a boss D) Flying through the air like a human-shaped Frisbee (like a boss)?

Answers A through C would be sufficient, he thinks.  And he’d definitely have to throw a question in there about a theoretical situation of being stuck in a cabin while starving.  Best friends are friends, not food.

_But really, back to the Hydra now brain, please?_

The look Lydia was giving him was a mixture of confused and amused with just a sprinkle of annoyance.  She could bake a whole cake with just that look.  “Well?” She asked, quickly losing her patience.

“Well, what?” Stiles automatically replied, clearly still running off on a tangent.

“Plan?” Allison chose this moment to join the conversation, or lack there of.

“Oh!  Right!  So, this thing is kind of like a shape shifter, right?” Stiles asked rhetorically.  “But it seems way more powerful, like it actually _is_ the things that it shift into.  Like it had the Manticore’s poison, etcetera.”

Lydia and Allison nodded slowly.  “Whatever it is, it’s literally doused in magic.” Lydia waved a hand at her nose.  “It’s worse than the boys locker room after practice in the rain, and that _includes_ the wet dog smell.”

“Hey!” Scott chimed in over the comm.  Jackson chuckled before stopping short, probably realizing she meant _him_ too.

“Anyways,” Stiles interrupted rolling his eyes, “Maybe it’s been beefed up to the point where it actually shifts into the things it wants to, which means that maybe it shares its strengths _and_ weaknesses!”  He finished, crossing his arms and nodding smugly.

“So, we just have to figure out what weaknesses a…” Allison looked over to the multi-headed creature fighting with the werewolves and Ry.

“Hydra.” Stiles finished for her.

“Right, a Hydra.  What weaknesses does a Hydra have exactly?” Allison tumbled her hands while nodding her head, coaxing for an answer.

“Easy, it…” Stiles stopped cold.

“It’s immortal.  Cut off one head, two grow back.  It doesn’t have a weakness.”  Lydia sighed.

“Great plan Stilinski.” Jackson sniped over the comm.

He clearly didn’t need to ask if Derek had given him the pesky device.  Leave it to the beast to turn into something _immortal_ right when he figured out a grandmaster plan.  He seriously _hated_ that thing right now.  More than he hated tomatoes.  Stupid fruit that’s apparently a vegetable too, how is that not confusing?  And wait, if tomatoes are a fruit, does that technically make ketchup a smoothie?  He tilted his head; he liked ketchup.

“Earth to Stiles.” Lydia snapped her fingers in his face.

“I’ll look it up.  Meanwhile, are you alright to fight Aly?”  Stiles dug through his bag for his super laptop.

“I should be fine, as long as the spell Lydia cast doesn’t wear off.” Allison nodded testing her weight on her leg again.

“Damn.  I’m not getting any signal, something is blocking it.” Stiles tapped at his computer screen furiously.

“There’s a spell, this storm.” Lydia looked around.  “But it feels like it’s run out of juice.  I’m sure the spell was what was blocking the communications in the area.”

“Can you break it?” Stiles looked up from the laptop.

Lydia shook her head.  “Even in this weakened state, this spell is too massive for me to break alone.”

Stiles pursed his lips as he snapped the laptop shut.  What was he going to do now?  In this form the magical immortal creature.  He pulled at his hair as he wracked his brains.  He was great at mythology, what was the Hydra’s weakness?

“Heracles defeated the Hydra, didn’t he?” Stiles thought out loud.

Stepping forward, Lydia grasped Stiles by the bicep.  “Right, the weakness of the Hydra was that…”

“It was invulnerable _only_ if it retained at _least_ one head!”  Stiles nearly jumped for joy as he completed Lydia’s sentence.

“But when Derek chopped off one head, two grew back.”  Scott whimpered as Derek shot him a death glare with this disclosure of information.

It was odd how they could go along with plotting and planning while the Hydra seemed content swinging away at the werewolf play toys and Ry.

“How long did it take to grow back?” Allison quickly questioned.

“Thirty seconds.” Ry grit out, panting hard.  “Exactly.”  He sounded winded, but seemed to be the most concentrated as he bashed one of the Hydra’s heads against another with a single fist as it took a swing at a distracted Jackson.

“Thanks.” Jackson muttered as he snapped back to the fight.

“Well, we just have to chop off all the heads within thirty seconds, right?”  Allison simply stated.

The silence that followed was interrupted only by the occasional Hydra roar. 

“The thing has slippery snake heads!  Wait; is this the thing that turns you into stone if you look it in the eyes?  Oh my god, Allison, divert your beautiful eyes!”  Scott lunged over to Allison, covering her eyes as she batted him off with both hands.

“That’s Medusa, you imbecile.”  Lydia groaned, as the rest of the party wiped a hand down their faces. 

Stiles swore he heard Ry chuckle over the comm.

“It’s a good plan Aly, but all of us can’t exactly cut a head off, especially now that there are _nine_ heads, thank you very much Mister Sourwolf.”  Stiles’s comment earned him a low warning growl.

“I’ll be right back!” Allison called, already hallway to the cabin.

“Fire.  Heracles used fire to cauterize the necks after they were lobbed off.  We can do the same to buy us more time.”  Ry offered.

“Genius!  Did I mention that I _love_ you man?” Stiles openly worshipped.

Derek’s growl erupted into something akin to a bark.

_What the heck is Derek pissed about now?_

Stiles shook the thought as Allison slid down the mound of snow leading from the second story window carrying axes.

Wait, what?  Axes?

Large, double bladed, metal axes with wooden handles wrapped in leather to be exact, and four of them.  What the hell, even?  Was he rooming with brunette Buffy?  He really shouldn’t be surprised.  What he was surprised about is how she was able to carry that many axes at once, he’d have to ask her for lessons, that and the whole logic thing from before.  Professor Allison Argent, it had a nice ring to it.

“Here!” Allison lobbed the axes to Ry, Jackson, Scott and Derek.  Scott’s axe sailed through the air and landed deftly between his legs as he yelped.

“Weren’t you a werewolf the longest?” Ry chuckled as he whirled his axe around.

Scott let out a nervous laugh as he retrieved his axe from the snow.

“Okay, so the plan is: chop of the heads and burn the stubs before heads grow back exponentially.  Good?  Good.  Break!” Stiles commanded over the comms, as everyone shot him a look.

“How do we cauterize the stubs?” Jackson grunted, as he dodged a fire blast.

“Well, uhm…” Stiles stammered.  He really needed to think these things through before opening his mouth.  “Oh!  Lydia can burn them with magic, and Aly and me can use burning arrows and Molotovs.  Respectively, because I can’t fire a bow for crap, and really giving me _burning arrows_ is just asking for trouble.”

“Enough, let’s just do this.” Derek grunted, eyes flashing as he charged in, immediately chopping off one of the nine Hydra heads.

Stiles pulled his arm back to throw a cocktail, stopping as he realized the severed neck was swinging around like a deranged squirrel when you stole its nuts.  Not that he’d ever done that before.  Well, not more than once anyways.   “Hold the neck still, I can’t get a shot!” Stiles called out, looking back at Allison and Lydia who seemed to be having an equally difficult time taking aim with magic and flaming arrows.

Scott and Jackson double-teamed the neck from both sides, quickly stilling it as Allison let a flaming arrow loose, striking the stub squarely.  Lydia quickly chanted a spell intensifying the flames as the wound burned intensely.

“One down, eight to go!”  Stiles whooped.

The remaining eight heads seemed to disagree with Stiles’s mood as they hissed in pain, whirling around violently as it launched itself into the air before slamming its body into the ground, knocking them back with a shockwave.

Derek quickly recovered, leaping onto the nearest head with the axe’s handle between his fangs.  He held on tightly as the Hydra whipped it’s necks around, shaking him loose as he fell downwards, expertly gripping another neck on his way down and swinging himself around, landing with the limb between his legs.  He gripped the axe in both hands, swinging downwards hard, severing the head from its appendage, a shower of Hydra blood fountaining outwards from the stub.

Stiles felt sick.  Sure it wasn’t the first time he’d seen that much blood, but seriously, if he was used to this by now, he would probably worry about his mental health.  Well worry more than he already does. 

The remaining seven heads whipped around angrily, breathing fire at the assailants positioned around them.  Allison and Lydia dodged side wards as the fire blast sailed past, Stiles doing the same.

“This is going to be impossible.” Stile spit out a mouthful of snow where he lay.

Ry leapt into the air blue wisps trailing him as he soared through the air landing gracefully on one of the fire breathing heads.

“Derek!” Ry called out, gripping the head with both hands and turning it towards the stump Derek was currently riding like a mechanical bull.  Luckily, Derek caught on fast, grabbing the stump and holding it in place as the Hydra cauterized it’s own wound with a misdirected fire blast.  It reared in pain, twirling its heads around violently, throwing the two men from their positions on the beast.  Scott and Jackson caught on quickly, emulating Derek and Ry getting two of their own heads lobbed off, with the exception of burning them.  They actually only succeeded in burning each other when attempted.  Luckily, Lydia and Allison were on it.  Even Stiles managed to land a cocktail on a severed head.  Ry and Derek leaping back on the creature every time they were thrown. 

Stiles smiled as the heads flew off and were cauterized; this was going a lot better than he had though.  Well when you have no expectations, it always goes well, right?  “Two heads left guys!”  He called out triumphantly as Ry lobbed his axe through the air chopping off a head as Scott, Derek, and Jackson leapt on the stub, allowing Allison and Lydia to burn it.

It was _pissed_ now, brutally slamming its headless into the ground where Jackson and Scott stood, hammering them mid-air with another head before repeating the process with Derek and Ry.  The stupid necks seemed even more difficult without the heads.  It seemed to get the idea that things were not looking up for it, and it wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

Stiles grimaced as he watched the four of them drop somewhere in the distance, a loud crunch sounding through the comms as they landed.

Then it turned to Stiles, Lydia, and Allison.

Stiles gulped, turning around to book it, Lydia and Allison running in front of him.

“Go!  Go!  Go!” Stiles yelled, looking backwards at the Hydra, running face first into Lydia knocking her over.

She glowered at him.  “Stiles.” She smiled as she got up from the ground, the Hydra thundering towards them.

“Y-yeah?” Stiles would take his chances with the nine headed beast.

“Move.” She grunted out, throwing him out of the way, her entire body glowing.  “Allison, stall it.”  
Three arrows whizzed through the air before Stiles even saw her raise her bow.  Two arrows sinking deeply into its chest, while the last seated itself deep into an eye socket; the Hydra shrieked in agony.

“Bulls-eye!” Stiles cheered, fist pumping the air.

“Stop being a cheerleader and actually help!” Lydia snapped, cracking an eye open as the air swirled violently around them.

“Yes, sir!” He replied too seriously, earning himself a half-glare.

He looked around quickly, searching for something to stall it.  Snow.  Just snow everywhere.  More arrows whizzed through the air as he got an idea.  He quickly fished through his bags finding two Molotovs and one metal canister.  He shook the cocktails before throwing them, igniting a small firewall between the Hydra and them.  The Hydra reared backwards at the wall of fire in front of it stopping short of sliding through it, but the firewall quickly burned itself out without a fuel source, leaving only a puddle of melted snow in its wake. 

The Hydra stalked closer as he shook the metal canister and threw it into the puddle of water, the canister exploding in a hazy white mist.

“Was that a smoke bomb?” Asked Allison over the comm.

“Nope.  You’ll see.” Stiles smiled as the Hydra suddenly tumbled over as it reached the white mist, the mist clearing to reveal a patch of solid ice.  The creature slipped again as it roared, desperately trying to get up.  “Liquid nitrogen canister.” Stiles beamed.

“Good work, now move!” Lydia ordered, a zephyr swirling madly above the creature lightning dancing in the clouds.  Her eyes snapped open as she shouted the last of an incantation a single bolt of lightning striking a Hydra head causing it to explode, a steaming stump left over.

“I think it’s safe to say that we _don’t_ need to burn that one.” Allison looked a bit green.

If Stiles wasn’t sick before, he was going to be now, as he was covered in the Hydra’s grey matter, he wiped at his eyes desperately, temporarily blinded.  Unfortunately, losing even eight heads was not enough to keep a nine headed creature down as the ice beneath it’s feet cracked an it gained enough traction to slide over to them, swinging blindly at them.

Allison quickly dived out of the way, pulling Lydia with her as a neck swung exactly where they had been only moments earlier she reached for Stiles desperately, missing his wrist and she fell safely to the snow.

A whooshing noise followed by warmth.  That’s what Stiles remembers.  That followed shortly by the rush of air as he soared through the sky thinking, ‘so this is what it feels like to be Scott, hmm’.  The warmth in his arm exploding into pain as the cold snow made contact with his body, he screamed out in agony.

“Stiles!” The voice was distorted over the comm by the sheer volume.

Who was screaming his name?  His vision swam as the pain ebbed in his arm; he tried to move it to no avail.  Yep, it was definitely broken, and probably in more than one place.  More people were calling out to him.  Did he hit his head?  Why was everything so fuzzy?  He had landed on his non-broken arm, so why did his broken one feel so wet?  It was numb, painful, and wet, and all at the same time.  He desperately shook his head blinking hard as he tried to push himself into a sitting position with his good arm failing miserably as he flopped back into the snow.  He rolled onto his back, looking over at his arm; his shoulder ripped clear open to the bone by something, his own blood gushing into the snow.

_Shit.  Must’ve hit an artery._

Something was sticking out of his bicep; a tooth must have caught on his shoulder when the head slammed into him.  He knew if it had nicked an artery, he knew he wouldn’t have long.  He felt strangely warm as he lay there in the snow, his breathing getting shallow.  How far had he flown exactly?  He was at least proud that he could problem solve in his dying state.  He stared into the dark sky above the twinkling stars seeming to wink at him, the muted noises of people, calling out to him, followed by more roaring and shouting.  He found himself strangely desiring the smell of something piney and fresh.  A smell that made him feel safe.  The smells that reminded him of his mother always made him feel safe, except these weren’t the smells that reminded him of his mother.  He felt strangely content as his mind played tricks on him, the piney fresh scent suddenly flooding his nostrils, as he lay there alone, gushing blood into the snow as he lost his internal fight and slipped into unconsciousness.

_Mom.  Maybe I’ll be seeing you soon._

He smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnnn.... Let me know what you thought, and if you'd like me to continue writing! I've had some motivation issues lately, and you guys always give me inspiration! On a side note, holy crap this fic is long...lol.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Running usually always helped Stiles clear his mind. Or further cloud it, depending on how talkative his brain would be at the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone so much for your kind words of support and encouragement. Although I feel like this story is lacking, you all have inspired me to pump on this next chapter for you all. Please read the notes at the end for an important service announcement. Chapter was betaed by the carismatic Caristia. But all mistakes are still my own. (Seriously need to stop writing at weird times, at weird places.) Enjoy! 
> 
> OH and for some asking[ how I pictured Ry](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q0QetmpVp4s/T69XeEgo9sI/AAAAAAAAAZU/HyRvLCblQP8/s1600/51741-chris_hemsworth1_large.jpg), this is not an exact image of what I picture but its the closest I could find on short notice. I will update if I find something closer, for now, just picture Ry as your friendly neighborhood thor? Hahaha.

The rhythm of his breathing seemed stable enough as he ran, muted footsteps on the asphalt below seemed all too surreal as the random flashes of light obscured his vision.  He wasn’t sure exactly when he started running, or how long he had been running, or even why he was running in the first place.  But Stiles didn’t feel tired, what he felt was something else completely.  Unease could have been the word but it wasn’t that, it was almost peaceful, as if at any point he felt the freedom to stop.  But he found himself wanting to run, as if stopping wasn’t actually an option. What was he running to exactly?  He squinted his eyes as the lights continued to blind him.  Nothing was making sense right now and it was frustrating.  Where was he?  How did he get here?

It was as if the events and memories of the last few days had sprouted legs and ran off in six different directions.  Was that what he was chasing?  His memories?  Being frustrated was just the half of it, too.  He felt like he needed to do something, something important, but what the _hell_ was it?  Frustration blossomed into anger and anger led to more frustration. He was clenching his fists and he continued on this road, blindly running in what he hoped was the right direction and hopefully not off some cliff.

_I should just stop._

It would be simple to just stop, to give up.  Deities knew that he was already pissed, and he had no idea why.  And why was he alone?  He _really_ hated being alone.  It was everything he wanted to forget after his mom had passed away, his father looking to a bottle of Jack Daniels to comfort himself, leaving Stiles pretty much just that, _alone_. To feel that way again stirred up memories he would rather forget, but he realized the feeling was familiar; this is what he felt from time to time.  Sure, he had his father now.  But how could he foster that relationship when he had to constantly lie to the elder Stilinski 90 percent of the time? 

It was all too sobering to admit that his father and he and had grown apart within the last year or so, something he never ever wanted to happen.  Was he losing the only family he had left?  He shook his head as he ran harder. 

He supposed that he also had Scott, too, even though he was a crappy friend at times—most of the time, way too love struck to even notice the little tells, the little comments that Stiles would let slip.  The things that screamed in his head for help, for comfort.  But no matter how crappy a friend, he never slipped away, never truly disappeared, and that was what a true friend was in the end.  He could never really be mad at Scott for forgetting about him every once in a while.

And he had the pack now, too, even if at times he was never sure if he was truly a part of it.  Sure he had his place in it, but he was a human, and even though Lydia and Allison were also humans, they contributed to the pack much more than Stiles ever could, no matter how badly he wanted to.

His heart beat faster as his insecurities came crashing down.  The last time he had let his happen it had ended with a mild panic attack.  He fought his feelings, as his lungs seemed to clench the oxygen in his chest.  He needed to distract himself, and now.

_Ry._

Ry was a friend.  Sure he had only known the guy a little over a week, but he seemed to always have their best interests in mind.  Especially when their pack was separated and vulnerable.  And there was that whole little inappropriate crush he was harboring for the guy, which he may or may not reciprocate.  What, he couldn’t help it the guy was volcano hot.  Like, Derek hot.

And with that, the second elephant in his head came crashing through the wall like the Kool-Aid man, bellowing ‘oh-yeahhhh’ and all.  He winced.  Yeah, okay, Derek was gorgeous.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he always knew this and appreciated this.  And he also knew if he said he was attracted to him for just his looks, he would be blatantly lying, no super werewolf powers needed to detect _that_.  But seriously, the two of them had so many misadventures. How could the guy not hate him?  I mean _sure_ he tolerated Stiles like everyone else did, and okay, maybe Derek didn’t exactly _hate_ him, but he would never like Stiles in the way he possibly wanted him to.  Wait, wait, wait. How exactly _did_ Stiles want Derek to like him?

He realized his panic attack was no longer a threat probably since a while back in his angst, and not to mention he wasn’t having much problems breathing. So at least the confusing thoughts that just train wrecked in his head had a bright side, right? 

And speaking of bright sides, the blinding lights seemed to have stopped.  He opened his eyes and looked ahead, the landscape surprisingly mute for having had blinding lights only moments ago.  A single winding asphalt path paved between a rows of thin trees.  The peripherals of his vision were obscured by the fog that seemed to have rolled in from nowhere.  It wasn’t nighttime, but it wasn’t bright anymore.  He seemed to be caught in the twilight or something, maybe he was in the twilight zone.  He chuckled briefly, stopping as a figure appeared in front of him.  He slowed down to a canter and then a walk, as the figure was now directly in front of him.

It was more of a silhouette, really.  He reached out a tentative hand, nervous for some reason, grasping the figure’s shoulder lightly as it turned around.

A bright smile beamed back at him.  That same smile that would make him weak in his knees sometimes.  It was Ry.  Ry!  Maybe he had some answers for him.

“Ry, where are we?  What are we doing here?” His voice seemed to echo in the mist before tapering off.

A smile was plastered on his face as Ry gazed at him.

“Earth to Ry?  Hey?  C’mon buddy, I’m starting to get a little freaked out here.” Stiles voice waivered a bit, shifting anxiously.  Something he needed to remember clawing to get the surface.

“Stiles, everything is fine.” Ry said quietly, leaning closer to him.

The clenching feeling in his gut seemed to stop as the baritones of Ry’s voice floated into his ears.  He let out a breath.  “Alright.  Thanks, but I still want to know where—“ Ry cut him off.  Specifically with his soft, amazingly warm lips.  As in his lips were on his.  What?  The momentary confusion was abated by the introduction of tongue.  And boy was he good at this. 

It wasn’t Stiles’s first kiss per say, but hell if he wasn’t going to enjoy it.  He leaned into it, giving back everything he was receiving. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he most definitely wouldn’t give anyone a reason to say he was a bad kisser.  They mingled for a minute or two, lost in the passion. Their mouths set as the stage while their tongues danced a slow waltz.  His eyes were still closed as Ry pulled away, a goofy grin surely painted across his face as he finally opened his eyes, muttering a hushed “Wow.”

Hazel flecked eyes stared back as him with a wry smile, complementing the dark stubble around his mouth and strong eyebrows framing those eyes perfectly.  Wait.  Stubble?  Strong eyebrows?  What?

“D-Derek?” Stiles teetered backwards, a strong arm keeping him in place.  His heart was jackhammering now.  “W-where did Ry—“

“Shhh.” Derek shushed him with a single finger to his lips as he leaned back in, laying an amorous kiss, before moving slowly over to Stiles’s ear.  “You’re slipping.”  He whispered.

“W-what?” Stiles stuttered when the ground seemed to suddenly give underneath him and he fell, a bright light erupting from the abyss.  Fell into the light, his lips still tingling.

The falling seemed to slow, the blinding light fading to black as the world around him slowed.  He couldn’t move, couldn’t see anything now, but distant voices seemed to reach him.  Familiar voices.

“He’s slipping!” Someone was shouting it now.

“Derek, do it, bite him!” It was someone else now.

_Scott maybe?  What was going on?_

“No.  He wouldn’t want it.  He made that clear.” A strong female voice cut in. 

_Lydia?_

“It doesn’t matter what he wants if he’s _dead._ ”  Scott sounded distraught.

_Who’s dying?_

A deep rumble stopped the bickering.  “I don’t see any other choice.”

“There is.”

 _That’s Allison, it has to be Allison._   Stiles was a little too excited that he was able to discern voices from each other.  _Especially_ if he really was the one who was dying.

Silence.

“Everyone except Lydia and Ry, get out.  Now.” Allison used her commanding hunter voice.  Even Stiles wanted to leave the room.  Except he couldn’t see or even explain what was really going on in this room.

“What—“ Derek snarled, clearly not liking the idea of taking orders.

“No.  Now.  Unless you _really_ want to watch him die.” 

More silence.  Seriously, he needed some heavily buttered popcorn for all of this drama.

“Fine.  Out, everyone.”  Derek grit out, a slew of shuffling closely followed by the sound of a shutting door.

“Ry.  Stiles told me what you could do.  Can you do it?  Can you save him?” Allison was practically pleading.

His heart swelled at her concern.

“Do what?  What’s going on?” Lydia was clearly confused.

“I overexerted my powers during the fight.  I’m not sure if I have the energy to do it.  It could put him in more danger.” Ry sounded exhausted and disappointed in himself.

Stiles didn’t like the sound of that.  Ry should never sound like that, ever.

“Still wondering what the heck you’re all talking about.  And you realize the werewolves can _hear_ you, right?”  Lydia sounded like she would be looking at her nails nonchalantly right about now.

“Special doors.”  Responded Allison.  “Lydia is a pretty powerful witch, maybe she can help somehow?”  She sounded hopeful.

“Well, we can try it.  But I warn you; I’m going to have to use a direct method and Lydia would need to be supplying me with a large amount of magical energy.”

Silence signaled confusion.

“Just, just don’t get the wrong idea.” Ry sounded nervous. 

“Do it.” Lydia and Allison harmonized without a second thought.

“Stiles.”  Stiles could honestly feel eyes falling on him.  “We have to do it now, his life force is waning.  He doesn’t have much time left.”  Ry whispered.

 _Do what?  Don’t have much time for what?  Am I dying?  I can’t die.  I’m too pretty to die.  No wait, that’s Jackson.  And Lydia.  Oh, and the whole freaking werewolf pack. …   I’m too virginal to die!_   Stiles felt he had the monopoly on that one at least.  He was a _bit_ distraught, but he felt majorly tired all of a sudden.  The voices seemed to mute in his head as his thoughts seemed to melt together.  He was just so damned tired, damn it.  A little nap wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

 

* * *

 

Pain.  Grogginess.  More pain.  Confusion.  Oh, and did he mention the _pain_?

Stiles’s eyes shot open as the pain currently jolting through his body like electricity seemed to serve as overkill for a wake up call.  He really couldn’t help crying out, it was too much.

“Stiles.” A voice harshly whispered from his side as a large, warm hand settled on his uninjured shoulder.  His body seemed to burn at the touch.

_Seriously, what the frack was going on now?_

Stiles grit his teeth as another crack of pain whipped through his body.  “Stiles, honey, calm down.  It’s the venom from the Hydra being purged from your system.  Ry said it would happen around now, it's been over a day already.  Although he did say you _should_ still be unconscious.”  Lydia was leaning in the open doorway, her hair oddly disheveled.

“How.  Long.”  Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as the pain spiked once again, the hand on his shoulder squeezing gently as he whimpered.  Seriously the tooth ripping through his arm had hurt less.  Oh, right.  The fight.  The memories came flooding back as his heart jackrabbited in his chest. 

 _He had been out for over a day already?  It seriously felt like a few seconds._ _Ow. Ow. Ow._

Striding over, Lydia placed her hand firmly on his forehead, chanting softly as her breathing became labored.

“Lydia, don’t overdo it.” Derek warned, getting up from where he was parked.

“I’m fine.” She was panting now; the pain seemed to lessen a bit, just enough to make it _bearable_.  “That spell should last until the poison passes out of your system.”  She backed away crumpling into a nearby chair. The strawberry blonde was clearly exhausted.

The poison took the better of an hour to completely leave his body.  Stiles was all too ready for the pain to stop.  Seriously, if that was an experience close to the shock torture method he saw the Argents use, well f-that.  He would have to make sure to get them good Christmas presents.

Surprisingly, Derek had stayed by his side the whole time.  Stiles hadn’t really noticed at first with the body splitting pain running through his body, but the broody wolf was still sitting in the chair by his bedside as he relaxed back into the bed, the pain finally concluding.  Lydia had staggered out of the room mumbling something about a nap some time ago, leaving him all alone with one Derek Hale.  He smiled lightly at the Alpha, who was carefully watching him with what could be described as a calculated look.

 _What? Do I have something on my face?_   Stiles wiped absently at his nose with his sleeve, peering at the fabric for any traces of what was just so interesting.

“Did Scotty draw on my face again while I was asleep?” Stiles groaned as he took account of his body now that he could actually think.  His entire arm felt constricted, as it was wrapped tightly in bandages from the wrist all the way up to his shoulder. The sterile white stained ever so slightly pink where he remembered seeing his arm gushing out.  He grimaced at the memory.  But the pain was dull, minimal.  Or at least when compared to the _hell_ that he had just gone through. 

Derek tapered his eyes at Stiles, the birth of a menacing growl just barely escaping his lips.

_Oh crap._

Right, they were _pissed_ at him.  No doubt Lydia—hell even Derek, had probably figured out that leaving to join this whole Agency deal was mostly his idea-- and he would have to pay the consequences. 

“Look, you can’t exactly kill me.  I mean you _just_ saved me.  Multiple times might I add, and it would be _such_ a retrograde to just off me now!” Stiles was glad he was even allowed to plead his case. He had half expected to be cut off by the tearing of his throat with werewolf teeth, the moment he tried to utter a syllable in his defense.

“Stiles.” Derek uttered the one word he actually expected, although it came out a bit softer than he had preconceived. 

It didn’t sound angry, per say, but he wasn’t about to be bamboozled into thinking he was in the clear, not by a long shot.

“And you can’t exactly kick me out of the pack.” Stiles paused, his heart sinking a bit.   “I mean because technically I was never officially a part of it, anyways.”  His voice dwindled as he heard himself admit the last part of his argument out loud.  He wasn’t pack.  Not really, anyways.  The insecurities he had faced in his almost death like dreams came flooding back to him.  What was all that stuff anyways?

A crimson flash caught his attention.

_Uh oh.  Derek angry.  Derek smash!  Abort.  Abort!  Abandon ship!_

Gulping, Stiles raised his good arm up in defense.  “Hey, big guy, can’t we just kiss and make up?” He chuckled shakily, regretting his words as soon as they left his lips, his cheeks heating with the memory from his near death dream thingy.  Why did his complexion have to be so fair?  Blushing so easily was seriously becoming a handicap.

Derek’s expression twisted slightly, his nose twitching as if he caught a whiff of something odd. 

_Crap.  Crap.  Crap.  Crappity crap crap._

Stiles came to the realization that he hadn’t been using his emotion blocking deodorant recently with all of the happenings.  Derek probably just got a huge whiff of insecure, nervous, and just his luck, a heavy helping of arousal.  Stiles inwardly groaned.  If he wasn’t about to be eviscerated, he most definitely would be now.

“Whoo.  All this magic is sending me on an emotional rollercoaster.  My insides are all twisted and confused.” Stiles fanned himself as he chuckled.

_Not my worst attempt at a cover._

Derek flashed him a dubious look.

 _I didn’t say it was my best attempt._   He rolled his eyes at himself. 

“So.  If you’re going to kill me, can you do it now?  I’d rather not get my hopes up, and saying goodbye is always messy.”  Stiles sighed as he resigned his fate.

“Stiles.” It was a bit harsher this time.

He couldn’t help but to visibly wince at the tone.  He felt like an aquarium fish at a dentist’s office as the inevitable kid tapped heavily on the glass.

“I’m not going to kill you.  And you are pack.”  Derek sounded almost pained.

“Well, that was convincing.”  Stiles shoved his foot in his mouth.

When the responding growl confirmed his epic foot to mouth action, he sighed.

“I just want to know what the _hell_ you were thinking.  Do you have no faith whatsoever in my—our ability to protect your dad?  To protect Scott’s mom?”

_No hulking out yet, only one vein popping out in his neck.  Anger level, miffed lobster.  Response encouraged._

Stiles really needed better code names for the different anger stages that _defined_ Derek Hale.  “I-I was just thinking if there was a better way—a way where it wouldn’t fall on your—our shoulders alone.  The Agency has powerful magic.  It seemed like a no brainer at the time.” Stiles was looking at his hands on the bed.

“No brainer is right.  As in you have no brain, Stiles.  You take off with Allison and Scott to do who knows what, who knows where.  Do you ever even think about the consequences?”  The last part came out more as a statement then a question.  Two veins were now protruding from his neck. 

“I admit, I never should have coerced Allison and Scott into coming.  But either way I would have still made the deal on my own if they let me.  It had to be done.”  Stiles whispered. He was certain about his decision now more than ever.  Now that he knew exactly what else was out there.  What threatened his family, his friends, what threatened Derek.

“Oh, so you would have been _just fine_ doing this all on your own?  Did you just miss what happened out there?” 

Derek was using sarcasm.  Which pissed Stiles off. Only he was allowed to use sarcasm and the such!  Didn’t Derek know?  And it wasn’t just about his family.  It was always about more than that.

“God, you _idiot_ werewolf.  I freaking did it because even if you protect my dad, protect everyone, what the _hell_ is the point if _you_ die in the process?!”  Screaming period was a bad idea in a cabin full of werewolves.  His face was beet red now as his brain finally caught up with his mouth, huffing heavily as the blood rushed to his face.  Stiles blinked rapidly, the urge to flee only abated by the fact that he was pretty much bedridden.

Derek’s eyes widened for only a moment before returning to their default: Glare of Doom setting, adjusting his gaze to face towards the doorway where most likely everyone in the cabin was eavesdropping from the hallway.

Turning away from Derek on the bed, Stiles pulled the covers up.  “It’s late, I’m tired.  I’m going to rest now.”  His heart was beating like crazy; even the hiccup from the blatant lie probably wouldn’t have been detected among the chaos in his chest.

Hesitating for only a moment, Derek got up slowly and walked out of the room.

He would most definitely have to deal with the repercussions in the morning, and on more than one level.  Stiles fondly remembered when his life was all about trying to make first string and woo Lydia Martin.  Yeah, his life wasn’t exactly _that_ different in certain aspects.

Soft footsteps coming back into the room and closing the door caused him to go rigid for a second.  Relaxing as a familiar voice called out to him as the other side of the bed dipped.

“Hey, how you feeling Stiles?” Ry’s voice was actually relaxing, unlike some other person who shall not be named.

“I’m alright.  Thanks by the way.” Stiles turned and smiled at the honey brown hair and explosiony blue-green eyes.  He felt his cheeks heat again.

_And here we go again with the blushing.  Seriously, Stiles?_

“Oh?  For what?”  Ry flushed a bit.

“I don’t know how, but I think I heard everything going on in the room.  Including the whole _direct_ method thing?  I’m guessing you didn’t channel your powers through your hands this time?”  Stiles diverted his eyes, flicking them back to Ry every couple of seconds.  “You slobbered on me, didn’t cha?  Just couldn’t keep away, eh?” He teased, waggling his eyebrows.  His own actions were confusing him.  He had seriously just gone from admitting he had some sort of feelings for the well being of Derek, and now he was openly flirting, or at least openly jokingly flirting with Ry.  Not to mention that extremely weird and hot near death experience dream he had.  And that kiss.  Oh god, his dream kisses were awe-someeeee.

Ry flushed a bit more as Stiles snapped back to reality.  “Uh, something like that.”

“What do you mean…I mean what other direct method could you mean?” He couldn’t help but let his mind wander a bit, even if it was to the gutter.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out?”  Stiles was sure Ry didn’t mean for it to come out as a question.  “Never you mind though, you have a relatively clean bill of health, but I’m still recovering and need my rest.  So, scoot.”  Ry gently pushed at Stiles before turning off the bedside lamp and getting in the bed.

A strong arm wrapping protectively around his midsection caused him to go taut for a second.  This was new.  Well, sort of.  Because, right.  Despite the whole awkwardness after the cuddle spooning that was night number one in the cabin, they still slept in the same bed.  Every night.  Just never much cuddling after that, except you know the accidental tangle of limbs that they _usually_ woke up to.  There had been no intentional contact between them for a week now.

“Hey, is this okay?” Ry sounded unsure; the contrast to his normal confidence was jarring. 

Stiles relaxed as he allowed himself to melt into the touch a bit.  “Yeah.  It’s fine.” He nodded into the pillow.  It honestly felt amazing.  After all he went through in the last 48 hours it felt nice to be held.  But Stiles refused to be referred to as a girl in any way, shape or form.  The fact that he was still the little spoon went untouched in his mind.  Denial is fun.  He sighed as Ry settled against him, the warmth from the muscular body next to him seeping into his skin, a familiar feeling of euphoria taking over as his mind wandered back to his dream. 

“A-are you healing me?” Stiles whispered drowsily in the dark.

Ry stilled for a second.  “Yeah.  I know you’re still in pain.”

“More emotional than physical, unfortunately.”  He accidentally admitted.  “And, don’t you need to recover?  I distinctly remember you saying you overdid it in the fight, in the weird out of body experience I had.”

A chin softly nestled itself into the crook between his shoulder and neck, the warm puff of Ry’s breath tickling his collarbone.  His heart picked up a beat.  If this was Ry’s way of comforting him, he needed to be emotionally pained more often.

“I’ll be fine.  I’m more concerned about you, Stiles.” 

And wow, with comforting words like that, who needed to be physically healed?  The languid feeling that overtook him suddenly was a bit unexpected as he had just spent over a day sleeping—dying, whatever.  He felt calm as he let the sleep take over, sparing only one glance at the doorway a twinge of misplaced guilt for something he refused to acknowledge, something that couldn’t happen anyways, and for now he could be content—happy, maybe.

 

* * *

 

The next morning came way too quickly for Stiles’s liking.  'Good Morning' would most definitely be the right phrase though, as somehow Stiles had turned during the night and his head was resting firmly on a extremely firm, yet somehow comfortable pectoral muscle, the rest of their limbs lazily tangled in an oh so very good way.  His alarm clock on his phone went off, signaling that it was officially time to wake up. The loud growling of one Derek Hale recorded—against his will of course, rolling loudly through the room as Stiles groaned, trying to remember where his phone was.  Come to think of it, he didn’t even remember if he had his phone, let alone setting the alarm.  Wait.  If that wasn’t his alarm, then what was—

“Stiles.” Derek’s gruff voice interrupted his growl as a snarl. 

And that was most definately, completley, and utterly _not_ his alarm.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as we enter the more slashy portion of our story, what would you as the reader like to see? A little Ryiles, or straight to the Sterek? *waggles eyebrows*
> 
> Oh and for all of you who are pulling at their hair at the ending to this chapter from my beta-er to me:
> 
> WHAT YOU ADDED AT THE ENDING MADE THIS CHAPTER EVEN BETTER
> 
> AND THE STUFF WITH THE PHONE ALARM CLOCK, DYING
> 
> IT MADE IT EVEN BETTER AND MORE UNBEARABLE I MEAN PLEASE WHY A CLIFFHANGER
> 
>  
> 
> CLIFFHANGERS HURT PEOPLE
> 
> * * *
> 
> Am I hurting you? D:


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this _really_ his life now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all and welcome to the next installment of A League of Their Own! Thank you again to everyone for reading/commenting/leaving kudos, your encouragement is my muse. And because it is my muse, if you want to help encourage me please do share/recommend this to your friends/allies/agents/sourwolves! This chapter was betaed by the charismatic Caristia once again, but all mistakes are still my own. And you can also thank her for forcing me to make a [tumblr](http://theazureaegis.tumblr.com/) account where I will be posting about updates, future events (possibly) and other shenanigans! Please do follow and share! Thanks and enjoy! <http://theazureaegis.tumblr.com/>

 It was a miracle how Ry could actually sleep through the harsh baritones that rolled broodily—angrily, even. It was honestly a mixture of both that had jolted Stiles awake abruptly.  Finally coming to the realization that no, that was not his phone alarm but most likely the _real thing_ he squeezed his eyes shut, pointlessly wishing that he was dreaming. And that if he just ignored it he would wake up soon in the warm, muscly arms of Ry. 

Well, at least only half of his futile hopes were dashed, as he _was_ wrapped up in the warm, muscly arms of one Ry err-- Stiles realized he didn’t even know the guy’s last name, something he made a point of finding out today.  At least he was comfortable. He wriggled a bit taking into account which limbs were currently movable and which ones were hopelessly entangled with Ry’s.  He found that his right arm, the injured one, was safe from any entanglement or crushing, shakily raising it in an attempt to abate the growling that was now more of constant angry grunting noise.  It honestly sounded like a gorilla.  Stiles grimaced as a dull pain throbbed up and down his arm, inadvertently tucking his right leg further between Ry’s.

Ry sucked in a hitched breath in his sleep letting out a soft moan. 

_Hello there!_

Stiles jerked back at the contact with Ry.  Contact with _all_ of Ry, he couldn’t help but majorly flush as the growling rapidly intensified.  And either he smuggled an elephant gun into the bed, or he was _very_ happy to see Stiles.  Then again, it was morning time and they _were_ entangled.  Buddha knew he definitely was sporting some morning wood right about now; it was _painful_ at this point.  He was flailing at and he knew it, face as crimson as Derek’s alpha eyes as he forcefully, and painfully, detangled himself from his handler, who he had just handled.  Unintentionally! 

_Okay, brains, get over that already.  Homicidal alpha werewolf to deal with now!_

Derek actually let out a bark as Ry stirred from the commotion.  “Oiy, what’s up mates?” He remarked a bit blearily as he rubbed at his eyes, stopping as he realized his Australian accent.  He shrugged as he offered a sheepish smile.  “Dreamin’ about back when I was down unda.”

 _God, accents are sexy._   Stiles seriously needed an Adderall right about now.

Feeling extra guilty for waking Ry, especially when the guy had spent over half the night healing him, Stiles scrambled into a sitting position on the bed, finally turning to face the ‘cellphone’ that was currently set on _vibrate very angrily_ and ostensibly loudly.  He rolled his eyes, feeling irritated.  Who was Derek to barge into his room in the wee hours of the morning then get all super ‘angry alpha’ at—well, who knows what he was pissed about now!  Stiles was ready to give the bastard a piece of his mind.

The fight drained out of Stiles as he clicked his mouth shut, seeing exactly what was in the broody wolf’s hands nearly breaking from the death grip Derek was currently sporting.

There in Derek’s hands was a single plate full of breakfast foods: eggs, bacon, hashed browns, and some sausages.  Granted, it weren’t the most appetizing looking breakfast items he had ever seen, and he had an inkling that it was probably somehow store-bought even if they were literally hundreds of miles from the nearest McDonalds, but his stomached roared in delight.  Stiles hadn’t eaten in over a day now, thank you very much, Hydra creature, and it smelled freaking _amazing._  He could feel a tendril of drool dripping down the corner of his mouth as he openly stared at the plate, eyes wide. Derek finally stopped with the growling to look down at what exactly had snapped Stiles’s attention away so quickly, the miracle that had kept him quiet for more than three seconds after becoming conscious to the living world.

“Here.” Derek forcefully shoved the plate into Stiles’s chest causing a couple of sausages to roll off of the dish and on to the bed.

“That looks delicious!  That was awfully kind of you, Derek.” Ry smiled sincerely at the wolf from his place on the bed, propped up on his elbows as he yawned, turning to shoot Stiles a share of his heartwarming smile.

Derek paused for a second to look between the two before staring directly at the floor and shuffling his feet in place.

_What now?_

Stiles had never seen Derek act like this.  It was difficult enough to keep his hunger at bay as he tried to analyze what exactly was going on this strange, strange morning.  First, Derek was all irritated and angry, and now what?  He was acting awkward?  Stiles didn’t even know Derek was capable of doing _awkward._   He usually handled awkward like he handled everything else, with anger.  To top it all, Derek had brought Stiles food.  That never happened.  Ever.  It would always fall to Stiles to bring Derek and the pack food, Stiles the provider of sustenance, Stiles the bringer of the quite literal bacon. 

Secondly, why the hell was Derek irritated?  Coming into their room and growling like a deranged dog was seriously not cool, especially in the morning.  More specifically in the morning when some serious cuddling was going on!  Unless.  Unless the cuddling was why, was why he was je-- 

Stiles’s thoughts were brusquely cut off by Ry reaching over to steal a sausage from Stiles’s plate, the man taking the time to slowly bite the oddly shaped food before leisurely licking the sausage juices off of his fingers.  And seriously, Stiles will admit to watching over his fair share of porn.  And that right there was the _hottest_ soft-core porn he had _ever_ seen.  Yeah, there was absolutely no chance of getting rid of this pesky morning wood as it returned with a vengance.  Ry offered them an apologetic smile, as Derek’s eyes widened as if the actions had personally offended him.  “Sorry, I’m starvin’.  And this is very delicious, by the way, Derek.” He beamed as he nodded once at the alpha, who seemed to be caught off guard by Ry’s open earnesty. 

Thick eyebrows lowered for a second.  “No problem.” Derek grunted nearly inaudibly before throwing a half disgusted look at Stiles.

Half a strip of bacon was lazily hanging out of his mouth getting grease on his chin.  Stiles hadn’t even realized he had started eating.  Apparently his body was unsatisfied with his ability to consciously feed himself and decided to take matter into its own hands, or mouth, rather.  The bacon was undercooked, no surprise there. Hale liked to undercook anything and everything.  Which is why Stiles never let him cook, even though he sort of could.  The eggs were overly beaten, as if a very angry person had beat—yeah, that made sense.  And lastly there was no ketchup, his newly realized smoothie of choice!  Stiles would have seriously given him hell about his cooking ability if it weren’t for the fact that his body had devoured half the plate before he had the chance to even analyze all of these facts.  “Thanks, Derek.” Stiles offered an honest to god smile.

The corner of Derek’s mouth twitched as if desperately trying to move, to morph into some sort of arrangement where Derek’s mouth had never been, a foreign expression creeping across his face.  It was familiar in a way, just something that he never saw on Derek before.  He rattled his brain for an answer; this was seriously going to bug him if he didn’t figure it out. 

The strip of bacon hanging from his mouth was suddenly snatched, leaving a half stunned Stiles openly gaping at Ry who downed the half stripe  of meat in one bite, teasingly grinning at him.

“Hey!” Stiles protested as Ry just smirked. 

_Damn, he’s cute.  Hot.  Wait, I don’t have to worry about calling Ry cute, just other people._

Really, he needed to not be confused about his thoughts for once in his life.  Yet another growl sounded through the room, turning Stiles’s attention back to the angry yet awkward wolf whose eyes were flaring red, putting the fear of werewolfy deities back into Stiles. 

“W-what now?” Stiles stammered trying his best to sound crossed.  Needless to say he failed.

Derek ground his teeth as he hesitated another moment before turning to leave, pausing as he reached the door, letting out another grunt before slamming it closed.

“Greaat, angry to awkward and straight back to angry.  At least he’s consistent.” Stiles sighed to himself, absently stabbing at his plate with his fork. He looked down to see it surprisingly empty, swearing that he had had one strip of bacon left a second ago.  He turned to Ry who was ever so innocently chewing with just the corner of the strip of bacon sticking out of his mouth.

“Again, you bacon thief?  Nobody, and I repeat _nobody_ gets away with stealing my bacony goodness in the morning!”  He playfully jabbed at Ry. 

Ry just laughed and greedily swallowed it, throat muscles constricting as he licked his lips, hiking up his shirt as he rubbed his six pack of abs for a more comedic effect.  Unfortunately for Stiles the resulting effect was more along the lines of _more_ soft-core porn, just what the doctor ordered.  He looked down at his empty plate to avoid blushing any more this morning or, you know, blushing more, ever.  So, the plate.  The plate that had been _just_ full of food that Derek had got for him, hell that Derek had _made_ for him.  The dude that wouldn’t cook for _anyone_ let alone _Stiles_ of all people.  Just when he thought he had Derek pinned, the dude would throw him for a loop, and then another loop and then sometimes just throw him, literally.  More confusing feelings, this stupid sour wolf was seriously going to give him some sort of complex.  He threw his plate on the nightstand as he flopped down on the bed, his head swimming with confusion.

“Hey, if you’re that upset, I’ll make you more bacon.” Ry’s head was tilted, a small smile on his face.  The concern was unsettling.  He wasn’t upset about the bacon.  He was upset at the maker of the bacon, and how confusing his life was right about now.  They should completely make a show about his life or maybe write a book about it, he would settle for a fan fiction even.  It would be aweeeesome.

Wobbling his head, he focused back on the task at hand, Ry.  “No, no.  It’s not the bacon.  And you’ve been great.  The least I could do is share my bacon with you!” He smiled cheerily.  “Buttt, if you insist, you can have the _privilege_ of making me more bacon.”

Ry beamed, shaking his head a bit.  “It would be my honor, my prince.”

Stiles’s heart betrayed his thoughts as he tried to somehow find an angle about how cheesy being called a prince was.  But, he was practically glowing as he tried his best to hide the smile that was slowly but surely creeping across his face from ear to ear.

 

* * *

After second breakfast, and he really felt like a hobbit now, Stiles was dreading his next encounter with a certain permanently angry sour wolf.  But to his surprise and relief, the wolf seemed to be avoiding him as well.  Which proceeded to only make him more irritated, further convoluting the storm of feelings that was currently named Hurricane Stiles.

Ry had pulled all of them into a meeting somewhere past noon to explain what exactly was going on, to the best of his knowledge.  The snowstorm had apparently been the auxiliary spell that the agency had activated. The spell that somehow had been altered, thank you, Lydia, for explaining that, which is why not only it had been fierce, but why it had completely cut off communications to the area.

“Now that the spell has been lifted, I’ve contacted the Agency to let them know that we are okay.  They want us to search for the missing field team before the investigation team gets here, which will be tomorrow morning.”  Ry was reading off of a tablet.

“No need to search, we found them before we found you.” Derek announced softly. 

 _When did he sneak in?_  
Stiles was distracted.

“They are all dead.” Lydia looked down as she relented her piece of information on the topic.

Ry looked a bit crushed.  “Oh.  Well you will have to show me where.  And I’ll forward the information to the investigation team.  Any idea what happened?” 

“Massacred.  Probably by the thing that we killed yesterday.” Derek shifted a bit.

“They were doused in black magic.  The same type of magic that shape-shifter was altered by.”  The strawberry blonde explained.

“Wait.  What happened to that creature?” Stiles piped up.  He had honestly forgotten about the whole shape shifting dinosaur thing.  He was really easily distracted.

All eyes turned to Stiles incredulously. 

“Really Stilinski?  You only ask now?”  Jackson sniped.  “We killed it.” He shrugged.  “Your plan actually worked.”  It pained Jackson to give Stiles credit.

“Right after you blacked out, Scott and Jackson got the last head.  Then I used the explosive arrows you made me to well, finish off the creature.  It didn’t get back up.”  Allison gave him a small smile.  Her leg was wrapped in some bandages as she rested it on an ottoman.  Obviously all the healers in their group had focused solely on Stiles and had not much energy left to help out Allison.  A twinge of guilt shot through him as he conveyed his feelings through his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine, Stiles. You focus on getting better, we almost lost you.”  Allison nodded, finishing her sentence softly.

Derek narrowed his eyes and shifted in place as Scott let out a small whine.

“And you actually did help.  Your little stunt that ended up with ‘Hydras on Ice’ actually broke one of its legs.  It was a snap to kill after that.” Lydia waved a hand at him.

“Well, I _am_ awesome.” Stiles was laying it on thick.  “I don’t know how to explain it but I know how far all of you went to make sure that I am actually still breathing here.  I don’t say it enough, so thank you.  Everyone.” Stiles took a moment to make eye contact with everyone in the room stopping as he locked eyes with the alpha.

_Bite him._

The words flashed through his mind like a hot poker.  Derek was willing to bite him, to save him.  That had to count for something right?  Ugh, more confusion. 

“Always.” Ry replied with a soft smile, as everyone in the room including Derek and Jackson nodded.

His heart melted.

“But back to business.  One of you should show me where you found the team.  And the rest of you are free to do what you want to do.  We can discuss the specifics later on, but the Agency is very interested in talking to you three. You may want to make a decision on what you’re going to do.”  Ry sounded uncertain but nodded.  “Lydia, maybe Jackson?  Wanna show me where you found the team?”

“I’ll take you.” Derek’s voice was almost harsh.

Ry seemed taken aback for a second before nodding with his normal smile.  “Thank you, Derek, I appreciate that.  Lead the way.”  He extended his hand towards the door as the alpha walked out first.  Ry stopped at the door turning around a second to lock eyes with Stiles and nod to him.

Even _more_ confusion. He seriously needed some journal time right about now.  That poor, poor book would be getting the brunt of his confusing feelings sometime today.

Everyone else in the room seemed to have dispersed quickly as Stiles quickly gave Allison a hug before running upstairs to Ry's and his room, poking around his desk for the marble tablet which he had oh so fondly labeled “therapist”.  Where was it?  With all the feels that were currently pulling him under he seriously needed to write it out.  He'd never thought that this exercise, that had simply been supposed to help pass the time and possibly stop the stir crazy from surfacing, would actually help, but it was. 

“Looking for this?” Lydia stood confidently in the doorway waving his journal around, a knowing smile on her face.

“Y—“ Stiles stopped cold.  If Lydia had read it, she would know.  Know about his conflicting feelings about Ry, heck she’d even know about Derek.  The details written were vague at best but he _knew_ Lydia.  And he knew it was not even a challenge for her to put two and two together like that.  “Yes.”  He walked over to her and snatched the book out of her hands a little forcefully, quickly flipping through the pages as if he could find evidence in here if she indeed _had_ read it.

“Oh, Stiles.  You poor baby.” She cradled his cheek in one of her hands.

Well, there was his proof.  He cringed.

“Close the door.” He whispered moving to one of the chairs in the room and deflating in it.

Lydia rolled her eyes as she shut the door, coming over to sit practically on his lap, a move she would have never done before, not this easily anyways.  Because although she made it perfectly clear that she loved Stiles, Jackson was it for her, and she never ever wanted to mislead him because their friendship meant so much to her.  And now she was sitting on his lap, something he would have killed for only so many months ago.

Stiffening a bit at the action, he rolled his eyes at the girl, using his uninjured arm to hide as much of his face as he could.

He harshly chuckled.  “So now that you know I like guys, _now_ you’re willing to get close to me?” It came out with a bit more malice than he'd intended.

Lydia simply slapped his face.  “How dare you.  You don’t get to snap at me.  You know how I feel about you, you’re the one friend that I have that doesn’t judge me for what I choose to do, and I expect you to do the same.” Her tone was sharp and her words stabbed through his heart. 

“I—I’m sorry.” Stiles deflated a bit more.  Why did he always set his standards so high?  Maybe he was a masochist.   

“Do you even _know_ how fucking worried we all were?  How worried I was?  And when we get here you almost die?  Stiles Stilinksi, you almost died on me.  Do you know what _I’m_ even going through right now?”  It could barely be seen but there were tears in her eyes as she screamed at him.  He rarely ever saw Lydia Martin fall apart.  Of course there was that whole slew of incidents where Peter Hale had used her as his own personal puppet and had nearly driven her insane, but she was one of the strongest people he knew. And if _anything_ in the past had jarred her emotions this much, he would've wanted to kill the person responsible for it.  Murder them.  And now he felt slightly suicidal.

“Lyds.  You know why I did it.  I know you know why.  If you didn’t already figure it out, it was spelled out in here.” He tapped on the cover of the journal. 

She fixed her composure as she wiggled on his lap a bit.  “I know.  I always knew.  About all of that, everything.” She nodded at him.  “This,” her eyes darted to the book, “was simply confirmation.”

“Oh.” Stiles was stunned.  She was a lot smarter than even _he_ gave her credit for.

“First off, you’re not off the hook with me.  I expect shoes, and a ton more of those gadgets you come up with as repentance.  And that you never ever do something this stupid again, without talking to _me_ first.” Her voice was stern, no negotiating clearly spelled out.

“Okay.” Stiles couldn’t help but smile.  This was her way of forgiving him.

“We’re going to need it if we’re going to do this.”  Lydia looked distant.

“Wait, what?  Do what?” He was honestly confused.

“I know why you did it.  Yes, it was stupid, but I know why you did it and it was—is the best way to keep the people we care about safe, back in Beacon Hills.” She sighed exasperatedly, admitting this was a blow to her ego.  “I know I say I don’t care about my parents, but I do.  They have their own issues to deal with, me being one of them, but they are my parents and they love me.  They let their own hatred for each other blind their vision sometimes, but I love them.  It’s unconditional.” She looked distant for a moment.  “Kind of like you.”  She smiled.

He only could nod at her confession.  He knew all of this already, but it was seriously like in the hypothesis stage, not even tested yet.  Now he knew why he loved Lydia Martin, she not only was smart, beautiful, and amazing, but passionate and caring in her own way.  Oh, and she was way scary.  The scare factor was kind of a thrill, he supposed.

“I think we have to do this.  For now at least, till we find something that’s a better alternative.  They have strong magic, way better than I could ever do, and it does make sense.” She nodded at him.  “Trust me, I would love it if we had a better option right now.  But you’re the one who has to speak to Derek about it. But I’ll back you up.”  She smiled.

Stiles nodded, taking in all of this information.  His brain was about to explode from all the confessions going on in this room.  And boy was he thankful that the door was soundproofed.

“Speaking of love,” Lydia trailed off teasingly.  “What’s up with you and that _hot_ piece of man Ry?” She waggled her eyebrows.

Stiles flushed.  “I—I don’t know.  I don’t even know if he’s into me that way.” He couldn’t believe he was actually admitting any of this out loud.  Moving past denial was supposed to be a good thing.

“Oh honey, a blind man could see that he’s totally into you.”

Stiles gaped.

“The guy nearly sacrificed his life to save you.  He was totally drained after that fight, and feeding him my magical energy I could feel his own life force fading.”  The distant look returned, a bit more haunted this time.  “It’s a feeling I never ever wanted to feel.  I had to stop him from killing himself to save you.  You don’t do that for someone you don’t care about.”  She gave him a look.  “Oh and the way that he healed you?  I’m getting all hot just remembering it.” She fanned herself.

_What?_

“How did he—“

“Never you mind.” She dismissed the whole idea with just a wink.  “So what _is_ going on Stiles, hmmm?”

“I think he likes me as a friend.” Stiles shrugged, clearly still flirting with his denial.

“I think something else is stopping you.  Maybe someone else?” Her tone softened.

“It’s—it’s not what you think.  At least I don’t think so?”  He shook his head.

“It’s not me, right?” Lydia said it carefully.

“No!  No.  It’s not you.  I think I gave up on you the night you admitted that you loved Jackson.  I just wanted you to be happy.”

Lydia beamed at him before hugging him and scooting further on his lap.  “Thank you.” She whispered in his ear.  “But who then?”

Stiles stilled.  She didn’t know.  Or she did and she was playing coy.  He didn’t know; she was really hard to read, damn her!

“I’m just not sure right now.  I don’t wanna put myself out there and get completely rejected.  I think I like Ry, but I just have to erm, clear some other feelings up first.”

She shot him a knowing smile putting up her hands.  “Not going to push.” She replied. “Much.”  She added with a wink.

“Thanks.” He replied earnestly as they sat there for another few minutes before she excused herself to the ladies room.  He was truly lucky to have such a scary, impossible, dangerous and amazing friend.

 

* * *

 

Ry and Derek returned right around dinnertime.  Stiles spent most of the afternoon scrounging up food for the meal.  Even with the supplies that Derek, Lydia and Jackson had backpacked in, there was no way enough food for three werewolves, three humans and a guardian. 

Guardian, he had to remember to ask more about that later on.  That and finding out his last name.  He had cooked literally everything in the cabin with a little help from Allison and Lydia. By the time they got back looking only a bit awkward as they didn’t say a word to each other, going their separate ways at the door.

“What happened with them?” Scott whispered harshly, as if that would stop Derek from hearing him.

“Drop it.” Lydia said deftly, shoving a stuffed mushroom into the wolf’s mouth.

“Amaaaazing.” Scott melted onto the island, reaching out for another one, only stopping as Lydia slapped his hand with a spatula.

“Allisonnnnn, Lydia is being mean.” Scott whined.

“You can have more at dinner, go set the table.”  Allison sighed, smiling at Lydia.

Scott huffed as he stomped towards the dining room, plates and utensils in each hand.

Dinner came and went pretty uneventfully.  It was amazingly quiet, the sound of people chewing with their mouths open jarring his thoughts as he tried desperately to not shoot every person with an open mouth at the table.  Thank god Ry had enough manners to not do this.  Derek surprisingly wasn’t a culprit either.  Just what he needed, more confusing and frustrating thoughts for Stiles Stilinski, party of one.  After being fed up he finally yelled something about being tired and stomping off upstairs taking a long hot shower before dragging himself back into his room grimacing at the weird purples and yellows his unwrapped arm revealed.  Granted, he knew it would have been a lot worse had Ry and Lydia not helped him.  The gash on his shoulder was only a scar now, probably thanks to all the overtime healing that Ry was doing instead of sleeping.  He grabbed a roll of bandages to wrap his arm, looking for something he could use as a split as his range of motion was still limited and he felt like he probably shouldn’t be bending this arm just yet.  He yelped as he tripped over a dictionary of all things left lying on the ground.

Stiles screamed in agony.  He had flopped on his injured arm, you know, the arm that had been broken in multiple places and been sliced all the way to the bone?  That arm.  He saw spots as he was suddenly stabilized by a pair of strong arms, a concerned yet still attractive face coming into view as the pain ebbed, replaced with the familiar euphoric feeling of Ry’s magical healyness.  Seriously he needed to bottle this guy and sell him on the black market, magical didn’t even begin to explain how good it felt.

“Try to take it easy, alright, Stiles?” Ry’s breathing became labored as the pain drained away almost completely.  “I was able to heal the major breaks and mend the flesh, but even with your friend’s magical help, I wasn’t able to heal you completely.”  He sounded disappointed as he looked away as if embarrassed by his actions.

“Hey, no.  No, you don’t get to sound like that.  You.  Saved.  Me.” Stiles was holding Ry’s face with both hands.  “Lydia told me what you did for me. Don’t you ever endanger your own life for mine again, I’m not worth it.” He trailed off as Ry’s face twisted to protest his statement.  “But what I _do_ know is, that if it wasn’t for you, I’d most definitely be dead, so I owe my life to you Mr. Ry—“ Stiles stopped locking eyes with Ry.  “What _is_ your last name?” It came out more of a whisper as they slowly drifted closer.  Stiles felt his breathing become shallower as the space between them diminished, their lips only inches apart now.  His mind was darting everywhere, back to the dream, back to the first time he saw Ry half naked, the delicious trail of hair from his stomach leading to his-- his cheeks heated with just the memories.

“Azur.” Ry whispered back as he softly caressed Stiles’s lips with his own a bit self consciously, before leaning into it teasing his lips deftly with soft, passionate brushes before swooping in for a deep, yet somehow still gentle amours kiss. 

Stiles’s mind stopped.  He kissed back as best as he could in his state, still drugged up with Ry’s healing touch, and a bit confused with all that had happened this morning.  Not that he was complaining about the kiss, the kiss was _freaking awe-some._   He singsonged in his head as his thoughts involuntarily snapped back to his near death experience. His mind snapping back to his dream kiss, to Derek’s face when he pulled away from the kiss in his dreams.  His breath hitched as he pushed lightly away from Ry, the expression on Ry’s face confused, with just a hint of hurt. 

 _Damn_.  _Idiot move, Stiles._

He chastised himself as he mulled over the reasons _why_ the hell he had just done that, his eyes darting nervously all over the room.

“I—I’m sorry.  That was inappropriate, Stiles.” Ry said, the expression on his face vanishing in an instant.  “I just care about you quite a deal, but i-it won’t happen again, unless you want it to.”  Ry nodded as he fronted a dazzling smile.  His smile bright enough to almost make Stiles forget that hurt expression, _almost_.

“No Ry—“ Stiles began, his voice wavering.

“It’s alright, no need to explain anything.”  Ry stopped him, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. “This is actually how I healed you that night.” He looked a bit distant.  “I needed to use a more direct method and exchanging a kiss is usually the most direct.  It involves emotions and the exchange of bodily fluids that, granted, aren’t tears, but are just as effective for a wide range of injuries.”  Ry flashed him a small smile.

 _Oh. So he was kissing me again just to heal me?_ He couldn’t help the deflated feeling creeping through his chest.

“Fifty percent.” Ry replied.

_Crap I said that out loud?_

“Fifty percent?” Stiles found his voice finally.

“Fifty percent.” Ry nodded, getting up from the bed and heading towards the bathroom door.  “The rest was purely selfish.” He winked at Stiles, pulling off his shirt as he disappeared into the restroom, the flash of skin distracting Stiles once again.

_Idiot.  Idiot.  Idiot!  Why the hell did you just do that?!_

Stiles was clearly at a loss about his actions, certain parts of his body obviously _hard_ pressing him for an answer.  He groaned, mulling for an answer, any answer at all.  Just one came to mind.

Stiles _really_ needed a gun to shoot himself with right about now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sooo much of a cliffhanger this time, right? Okay, maybe just a teensy bit. Hehe. FOLLOW ME NOW: <http://theazureaegis.tumblr.com/>
> 
> And don't forget to leave me comments, I gets teh warm fuzzies every time I get one! :D


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's internal monologue takes over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I think this will be the last chapter before I move into the next fighting arc. Hope you're all ready for action and some romance? Things will heat up a bit from here on :). Don't forget to follow me for updates on the story! (SOMEONE PLEASE TEACH ME HOW TO TUMBLR!) [FOLLOW MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, FOLLOW ME WHERE EVER I MAY GOOOOO~!](http://theazureaegis.tumblr.com/). Betaed by the lovely charismatic Caristia, all mistakes are still my own. Enjoy Chapter 17.

“I’ll take you.” Derek certainly surprised more than just himself with his statement as a few did double takes at him.  After the debacle this morning, Ry was one of the _last_ people he wanted to deal with right about now. Even if he refused to let it be the reason, avoidance seemed to be the best tactical plan at the moment.  That alone should have been reason enough to just agree to let Lydia or even Jackson take the man to his dead comrades, but here he was, practically demanding that he'd be the one to serve as a guide.

“Thank you, Derek,” The other man let himself look taken aback for just a second, “I appreciate that,” He paused to gesture towards the door with his hand, “Lead the way.”

Trying his best not to storm out of the room, Derek gruffly strode out of it, making a beeline towards the front door, Ry unexpectedly close at his heels after a few seconds.

Contrary to the emotions whirling in his head, it _was_ actually a nice day outside.  The birds were chirping, and the air clear if not crisp.  The spell-storm seemed to have settled and left the place in a calm sense of chaos, and while most people noticed the calm before the storm, Derek often was forced to live in the chaos that followed.  Nature always seemed to find a way to move on, to move forward.  Something that Derek was continuously envious of.

“Nice day.” Ry offered politely, nodding at the alpha in front of him, tucking his hands into his thick coat as he trotted behind the wolf. 

Derek simply grunted as a reply, after all one word to _no_ word responses _were_ his range of specialty.

In all honesty Derek had no _logical_ clue why exactly he wanted to avoid Ry.  From what he had seen so far, Ry seemed to fit the ‘good, decent guy’ persona.  After all, the man _had_ saved members of his pack a few times. And as much as he coveted to blame him for brainwashing his pack into leaving Beacon Hills, he frustratingly knew that wasn’t the case.  The scenes from that morning flashed vividly in his head.  Oh, maybe that was why he _really_ didn’t like this guy, his wolf snarling in his head.

A tap on his shoulder made him realize he was indeed growling out loud as well.  He really needed to get a handle on this entire unintentional noise-making thing.  He couldn’t remember having such a bad handle on this since he'd been a teen wolf going through puberty.

“Hey, buddy, are you alright?” Ry’s head was slightly tilted, a concerned look splashed across his stupidly attractive face.

Derek rolled his eyes.  “Fine.” He grunted, pulling his shoulder away from the openly confused man.

“If I did something to offend you…” Ry trailed off, walking a safe distance behind Derek.

“No.”  Derek’s entire vocabulary seemed to centralize around one-word answers now.  If only Stiles were here, he would be receiving hell for it.  

_Why am I even thinking of Stiles?_

His thoughts only proved to further irritate him.  He was out here with someone who he didn’t even want to be around, purely by his own fault, and now he was thinking of that irresponsible goofball of a pack member.  And to make it worse, he didn’t even know the answer to ‘why’ for both of those.

“Derek.”  Ry jogged in front of Derek, turning to face the man and stopping him.

“What?” the spite in Derek’s voice seemed foreign to even him.

Ry’s eyes narrowed with conviction.  “If this is about Stiles, you _need_ to let me know.”

His jaw dropped about half an inch before audibly snapping closed, holding back the growl that threatened to come out at the mention of the boy’s name.  Derek shook his head.  “No, why would I—“

“Because, I can _tell_ you have feelings for the guy.” Ry locked his eyes directly to Derek’s.  “And I understand, you guys have kind of a history.” The man looked down at his shoes before sighing.  “So, if you _are_ interested in Stiles, you need to let me know so I can back off.  I have no intentions of _stealing_ anything or anyone.” Ry offered earnestly.

The earnest part was probably what seemed to piss him off even more.  He was about ready to explode.  “Why would I be interested in a kid that is so infuriatingly irritating, idiotic, and sometimes—all the time, hopelessly pathetic?” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, his inner wolf growling severely at his words.  Derek knew that he would never, ever let anyone say anything like that about Stiles, and live.  Yet here he was, saying it loud and clear.

“Woah, woah there man.” Ry sounded angry.  “That right there, was completely uncalled for.  I know you’re mad at him for leaving Beacon Hills, but none of what you said is true.” He huffed out a short breath shaking his head at the alpha.  “That _kid_ cares more for the safety of everyone else than his own.  The _only_ reason he left was to protect _everyone_ he left behind.” Ry took a moment to catch his breath.  “In my four years with the Agency I have never, and I mean _never ever_ , met _anyone_ who joined for such selfless reasons.  And to top it all off, he has _no freaking_ clue what a catch he really is.” He raised his gaze to match Derek’s, a fire burning in his pupils.  “And here I honestly took you for the one person in the world who could see that in him more than anyone else.” Ry blinked a bit as he turned, as if surprised by his own outburst before walking ahead.  “It’s this way right?” Ry mumbled, wandering off without waiting for an answer.

Derek’s eyes flashed red as he forced himself to calm down.  “I know.” He whispered harshly at no one as he slowly began walking again, kicking himself internally.

They continued on for a couple more miles before finding the area where they had discovered the missing unit.  In all honesty, Derek could have led them to their destination about an hour ago, but he was all too distracted with his thoughts to accurately lead them back to the spot.  They approached the meager pathway and familiar mounds of snow from the south as Ry slipped off his backpack unzipping his pack to fish for some instruments, kneeling next to the nearest snow pile.

Derek could hear the faint beeping from the machines perfectly as he looked around, searching for any signs of what could have killed this team, the unknown threat.  He looked over at Ry feeling guilty about what he had said earlier.  He knew Ry was right.  He knew the kid had all of those qualities and then some.  But Derek was clear; he didn’t have any extracurricular feelings for Stiles.  There was a momentary pause in his brain.  _Did_ he?

It was hard not to notice the look on Ry’s face as he openly stared at Derek.  Concern.  But why would Ry look concernedly at Derek?  He had literally just chewed him out earlier, and he'd had every right to as well.

“Look, I’m sorry if what I said was out of line.  I was just surprised is all.”  Ry sighed as the beeping continued.

Grunting, Derek just crossed his arms.  What the _hell_ was wrong with him today? He seriously had no control over what his body was doing.

Narrowing his eyes a bit, Ry turned back to the machine, his entire body flashing that blue color for a second. 

_What was that?_

“What was what?” Ry looked up at Derek.

Did he seriously just have a Stiles moment?  He painstakingly ran his hand down his face before sighing, a bit defeated.  “You just flashed blue.” He offered offhandedly resigning to the fact that he had just indeed thought out loud.

“I did?” Ry looked down at the machine, the device beeping madly as it began flashing red.  Ry’s face became stoic in an instant, his entire being glowing azure, the wisps of the iced hue evaporating off of his body.

Taking a step forward, Derek looked down at the machine as smoke began to bellow from it, sparks dancing across the device signaling that it was officially on the fritz.

But Ry never dropped it, even when it nearly caught fire and threatened to burn his hand.  The man closed his eyes and took a slow breath in, holding it for a few seconds before letting out a steady stream of air.  His blue aura faded.  “Derek,” he stopped to look up at the older man.  “I don’t think that our shape-shifting friend was responsible for these deaths.”  Ry’s face was unreadable.

“Then what?” Derek paused.  “What killed them?” He couldn’t help but notice Ry’s hands shaking, his entire body suddenly reeking of pain, suffering, and above all else, anger.  The alpha wolf involuntarily took a step back; he was all too familiar with this particular cocktail of emotions and it was hitting home.  Loss.

Blinking, Ry seemed to reel his emotions back in, breathing deeply, something close to what Laura had taught him to do after they had lost their entire family in the fire.  He took a final smooth breath, opening his eyes to face Derek.  “Something else.” He offered simply.  “Something your pack shouldn’t be involved in.”

Derek carefully narrowed his eyes at this statement.  A threat.  That’s what it had sounded like at least, but Ry had said it with nothing other than concern, his consistent heartbeat hopefully hinting that he was telling the truth.  He genuinely didn’t know what to make of it.

Standing suddenly, Ry shouldered his pack, quickly marking the location down on his phone and turning back towards the cabin.  “I’m just going to take a few more readings, and identify the rest of the bodies.” His tones surprisingly back to normal, possibly even a bit chipper.

To say he was taken aback a bit by the sudden change in the man’s stature would have been an understatement.  He completely recognized the signs, the emotions that had been radiating off of the man just a second ago, and to this day, Derek still had difficulty reeling those exact same emotions back in when they got as intense as he had just witnessed.  What the hell had Ry endured in order to get his emotions in check that quickly?  And more importantly, what exactly in god’s name had he _lost_ in order to feel what he had just felt? 

This guy was just full of mysteries, and while Derek really wanted to check it off as another reason to hate the guy, to despise him, he couldn’t help but feel for him, commiserate with Ry, and almost respect him for his handle on his feelings.  If only Derek could be so lucky.  He still had issues speaking in more than just grunts or one-worded sentences when he got angry.  Needless to say this realization only aggravated him further, if that was even possible at this point.

Grunting yet again, Derek decided to do a little of his own sniffing around as Ry seemed to pick the grave furthest from Derek at the moment, crouching down in the snow to see if he could pick up any scents.  Traces of what seemed to be magic were faint, as well as the consistent smell of frozen blood and flesh.  His nose turned at both smells, not being particularly fond of each.  He grimaced as he got up and walked towards the tree line, spotting a few broken branches among the brush.  He caught a whiff of something, something familiar, but he just couldn’t put a finger on it.  Derek desperately searched for a trail, the faint smell leading to the graves marking the pathway.  Circling once, then twice, he searched for any signs of the scent farther than where he first sniffed it out.  Nothing.  It was seriously going to bother him.  Just what the hell was that scent, and why was it so familiar?  It was something he had smelled before, something from his childhood maybe?  Strangely the butterfly house at the zoo in New York came to his mind.  He wracked his brain as Ry waved over to him.

  
“It’s getting late, and we should head back.  I got all the data I need for the investigation team.  As well as the list of names.”  Ry paused, “Of the deceased.”  He nodded, turning to head back towards the cabin.

Derek frowned as he turned to follow. The scent would have to wait, seeing as he couldn’t find a proper trail and he couldn’t for the life of him identify the source.  Maybe he was getting rusty.

The trek back to the cabin seemed to be progressing at a faster rate, seeing as one, Derek wasn’t the one leading anymore and two; it really was beginning to get dark, so they moved at a quicker pace.  And they had left the entire cabin full of teenagers; he was half expecting a house party when the cabin came into view.  Derek rolled his eyes as Ry suddenly stopped in front of him.

“Hey so, just to clarify.  You have absoultely no feelings towards Stiles, right?” Ry locked eyes with him.

Derek stopped, stunned, searching for an answer.  Searching for the right answer, maybe even the truth?  “No.” He heard himself saying as his heart skipped a beat.  Luckily Ry wasn’t a werewolf. 

Ry cracked a small knowing smile, something he had seen Lydia do a hundred times before.  “Fine.” He shrugged,  “I’m going to go for it then.”

Derek forced his mouth into a thin line as he watched Ry turn around and walk towards the house, the growl threatening to escape safely clenched in his throat, until it suddenly wasn’t.  The slight pause in Ry’s step paired with a slight shake of his head signaled that he had indeed heard the slip.

 

* * *

 

Anger.  Confusion.  Irritation.  Jealousy?  Denial?  Derek was used to feeling all of these emotions, really he was.  Especially that last one more often nowadays than not.  But usually his maximum capacity for emotions was one at a time, unless of course it the emotions went hand in hand.  For example, anger and irritation usually equated to a normal night with Stiles.  However, right about now all of these pesky things were swirling angrily around in his stomach, which really didn’t help because he was also _starving_ having not eaten anything that day yet.  The only meal he made was breakfast, which he had somehow ended up giving to Stiles, whether it was intention to or not, he would never know.

Dinner that night had been honestly awkward, the silence at the table unusual for a cabin full of teenagers with a table full of Stiles’s cooking.  Well, the loud chewing was normal—just amplified by the silence. 

Derek stole glances between Ry and Stiles for reasons unknown to him, noticing small things like the way Stiles would smile slightly every time he caught Ry looking at him, or how he would divert his gaze almost immediately every time he caught Derek looking at him.  It only further convoluted the stewing feelings that were pulling at his guts. 

 _Why the hell am I so irritated?_   Derek was at a loss to his own plights.  Just what _was_ Stiles to him?  He knew deep down that he did care for the wellbeing of the boy; after all he was the one who had rushed over to his side after he went down during their latest fight.  And it wasn’t even just that.  He always found himself extra protective of Stiles in any situation. 

 _It’s because he’s human_.  Derek always tells himself, which only actually works half of the time.  Because there are other humans in the pack, and while he does feel responsible, protective of them too, it’s just _different_ with Stiles.

After Stiles’s small outburst about being tired and storming upstairs, mealtime seemed to end quite brusquely, most of the teens retiring to the living area to relax before heading off to pack for tomorrow.  Derek followed them into the living room.  Stiles wasn’t the only one he had to talk to.  Allison was sitting on Scott’s lap in a chair next to Lydia and Jackson seated on the couch, Lydia’s head resting in Jackson’s lap as he gently ran his fingers across her scalp. 

Derek sighed as he walked over to the single recliner as he picked up the remote to the television and shut it off.

“Hey—“ Scott began before stopping cold.  He probably hadn’t even noticed Derek entering the room at all.  He gulped.

Derek took a seat before resting his elbows on his knees, looking up at Scott and Allison.  “We should talk.”

Lydia slowly got up as Jackson perked up, as if ready to watch some sort of brawl that was better than whatever was on the TV.

“It was our decision.  Stiles had nothing to do with it.  We decided to do it for our families as well.” Scott barely got by without tripping over his words but his voice never waivered, nor his heartbeat.

“It’s true.  It was our decision.” Allison added, nodding as she took Scott’s hand into her own.

Derek rolled his eyes.  “I’ve talked to Stiles already.  He told me what happened.”

“Oh.” Scott sounded a bit deflated.

“How can I count you as a part of this pack?  On top of all the lying, you left.” Derek paused watching the crushed look on Scott’s face as Allison comforted him.  “I’m not saying you can’t ever leave.  But you should feel comfortable enough to come to me with your problems.  I’m your alpha now, it shouldn’t be like before.” He averted his gaze as he remembered the past.  It had been such a trip to get to where they were today as a pack.  There were so many speed bumps and roadblocks and finally when things seemed to be settling, when the pack was complete and finite, this had to happen.  He couldn’t help but feel the small amount of betrayal he felt, even if he knew the reasons behind them leaving being not completely stupid and idiotic.

“It’s not like that anymore, Derek.  You of all people should know that now.” Allison looked distant for a second, contrasting the confidence in her expression when she began to speak.

Of everyone in the pack Derek knew Allison had come the furthest.  Trying to kill him because of her mother’s death and where they were now were worlds apart.  He wasn’t actually sure how she had found the strength to forgive and forget, but he had an idea that Scott most likely played a huge role in just that.

“Things are just different and with everyone possibly going their separate ways soon who is to say that something doesn’t happen.  At least this way they—we would know that something would stand between the ones we love and the supernatural.”

“I know.” Derek grit out, stopping himself from making it sound any harsher than he had meant and breathing for a second.  “I know,” he continued calmly, “but we are a pack now.  And pack means that no matter where we are we will always be there for each other and help each other.  Even if it seems impossible, we can make it work.  Somehow.”  Derek felt weird being the one to give the motivational speech.  Normally he left that job to Stiles, or one of the girls.  They were good at it, no use messing with something that works, right?  He sighed as he lost his train of thoughts, shaking his head.

“Well, apologize.” Lydia spoke with a matter-of-fact tone, Jackson simply nodding along with her statement.

Derek glanced over to see whom exactly she was speaking to at the moment, her gaze fixed on the shrinking Scott and Allison in the chair.

“I gave Stiles an earful and then some,” She paused to stare down at her hand.

Derek only felt a little bit sorry for Stiles if she had struck him.

“But you all should know too.  It’s not a great feeling to wake up one morning to find that three of your best friends are missing, and to not know as much as a hint of where they are and if they are okay.  It was selfish and stupid.”  Lydia shrugged.

Derek just nodded; it wasn’t surprising that her simple speech was wreaking havoc on Scott and Allison, Allison looked to be almost in tears, Scott looking like he had been kicked several times in the gut.

“Sorry.” Scott and Allison said in unison, their gazes shifted towards the floor as Lydia nodded.

“But, your reasoning is,” Lydia searched for a second, “Sound.”

Derek opened his mouth to interject, stopping as Lydia shot him a look.

“We are saving _that_ conversation for later.  I promised Stiles that he would be the one to argue with you about it.” She waved her hand.  “But I _do_ know that I would have done almost _anything_ to protect the ones that I love in my life.” Lydia turned her head to Jackson as they briefly kissed, smiles spreading across their faces.

And wasn’t that just a kick in the gut?  Derek had no idea how to respond to that, or to the clear PDA he was witnessing, not even sure why this churning in his stomaching was going on.  He wondered if he would ever find someone to share that type of moment with.  He shook the thoughts from his head.

“Fine.  Later then.” Derek got up to leave the room stopping at the doorway.  “We aren’t finished yet though.” He pointed his words towards the couple currently melting into each other in the room.  Well, the non-blonde or strawberry blonde ones.  He rolled his eyes.

Dinner and the little talk he had were long over and the house quiet by the time Derek decided to just let the whole situation rest till the next morning.  He gave up.  He realized thinking about this more would only lead to more _feelings_ and he had quite enough of that for today.  He scaled the steps of the cabin towards his room, the only sound from the entire cabin coming through the small crack of a door not quite closed.  The door from Stiles’s and Ry’s room.  He really couldn’t help it if he was listening in when he heard the scream. 

 _Stiles!_   Derek was already lunging for the door when Ry’s soft voice stopped him in his tracks at the door, his hand outstretched for the handle.

“Try to take it easy, alright, Stiles?” Ry’s breathing became labored.  He sounded like he was under a lot of strain.

 _Just what in the heck is going on in there?_   Derek shook the thought from his head as he listened closely.

“I was able to heal the major breaks and mend the flesh, but even with your friend’s magical help, I wasn’t able to heal you completely.”  Ry sounded disappointed.

_Healed him?_

Well, Derek knew it had to have been Ry.  Lydia wasn’t capable of repairing that extent of damage to a body, and Stiles had just lost _so much_ blood.  Derek could feel the helplessness that had overtaken his body at that moment, the moment he'd known that even the bite might not have been able to save Stiles.  He had been too far-gone.  And Derek didn’t question it.  After Stiles had pulled through miraculously, after Lydia and Ry emerged from the room looking absolutely wrecked, exhausted.  He didn’t question it because Stiles was okay, and he was going to make it.  Derek had been relieved—more than that even.  It was as if his whole world had been turned upside down and righted again within a matter of hours.  Ry _had_ healed him.  Another thing he couldn’t hate the man for.  He almost growled.

A softer voice snapped him back reality.  The reality where he was currently eavesdropping and he had no idea why.

“Hey, no.  No, you don’t get to sound like that.  You.  Saved.  Me.” Stiles whispered.

A defeated feeling began creeping into Derek’s chest.  He didn’t like it.  He really liked the fact that Stiles had been saved.  But he hated the fact that he wasn’t the one who had done it.

“Lydia told me what you did for me. Don’t you ever endanger your own life for mine again, I’m not worth it.”  Stiles’s words only furthered to sink Derek into his unknown depression.  So Ry had healed Stiles at risk to his own life.  Great.  How could he possibly top that?  Stiles was his—his pack.  And Derek should have been the one to save him.  He was sure he was growling now, a hand over his mouth the only thing keeping it from making itself known to the pair in the room.

“But what I _do_ know is, that if it wasn’t for you, I’d most definitely be dead, so I owe my life to you Mr. Ry—“ Stiles paused.  “What _is_ your last name?” It came out more of a whisper.  Derek’s ears perked up.

“Azur.” Came the hushed response, a familiar sound following closely.  He knew this sound.  It was kissing.  Stiles was kissing Ry. 

The crimson color softly reflecting off of the white walls of the hallway were a sobering reminder that his eyes were indeed burning red with a passion.  He was about ready to kick down the freaking door and rip out Ry’s throat.  What was stopping him?  He could feel his features changing as the wolf took over, his alpha instincts to protect, to keep his own, overtaking his ability to keep calm.  Stiles was his.  _His._

_What?_

Derek stopped as he realized what he was thinking.  Because that was just it, Stiles wasn’t his.  Stiles had run away from him, to protect him not the other way around.  He threw himself into danger to protect Derek.  Stiles’s confessions from the other day replaying in his head on repeat as Derek’s features came back into check.

_“God, you idiot werewolf.  I freaking did it because even if you protect my dad, protect everyone, what the hell is the point if you die in the process?!”  Stiles was breathing hard as he stopped, blinking rapidly.  Derek guessed he probably didn’t mean to say that at all, let alone yell it.  A sharp pain shot through his chest._

The exact same pain that rocketed through Derek’s torso before was now a dull ache as he laid a hand over his heart. Just what was this pain anyways?  He was sure he knew.  But he wasn’t ready to admit it.  Not yet.

Ry’s voice brought him back to the here and now. 

"I—I’m sorry.  That was inappropriate, Stiles.” Ry was apologizing for something.

Derek’s heart stopped as he concentrated.

“I just care about you quite a deal, but i-it won’t happen again, unless you want it to.”  Ry’s voiced wavered, but it was so miniscule that he was sure only a werewolf would have noticed.  His heart began beating again, faster and faster.  He couldn’t help but feel almost happy?

 _Did Stiles reject him?_ Did that even make sense? For all Derek knew they could have been making out for an hour, he was too lost in his own thoughts to really remember how long their kiss had been going, or if there had been _other_ extracurricular activity involved.

“No Ry—“ Stiles began, his voice wavering.

“It’s alright, no need to explain anything.”  Ry stopped him.  “This is actually how I healed you that night.”

 _So he had healed him.  Wait.  By kissing him?  What the hell was going on here?_ The happiness that had settled so nicely in his chest was being evicted already.

 “I needed to use a more direct method and exchanging a kiss is usually the most direct.  It involves emotions and the exchange of bodily fluids that, granted, aren’t tears, but are just as effective for a wide range of injuries.”  He overheard Ry explain.

 _Oh.  Convenient._ Derek rolled his eyes.

“Oh, so he was just kissing me to heal me?” It was barely a whisper.  Probably one of Stiles’s I-just-thought-that-out-loud moments Derek thought to himself.

“Fifty percent.” Ry’s response was confident with a hint of teasing in his voice.

“Fifty percent?”  Stiles’s voice was full of insecurity.  It made Derek rage.

“Fifty percent.” Derek could hear the nod in Ry’s voice.  “The rest was purely selfish.”

The younger boy’s heart rate picked up as he heard movement in the room, Derek quickly bounding down the hall to the stairs as he heard Stiles groan.

That night Derek went out to hunt which was probably a bad idea considering they were in a national park.  But three deer and seven rabbits later he didn’t feel much better as he washed the blood from his hands, looking at his reflection from the bathroom mirror. His crimson eyes glowing as he growled, a certain someone on his mind.  Someone, he realized, he might just want in his life more than he thought.

Perhaps he would need to ‘go for it’ too, as Ry had so easily put it.  Derek smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and leave me some comments! DRIVE MY DRIVE TO WRITE, COME ON NOW :D.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their next destination set, the pack heads on to their next adventure as Stiles realizes that setting his mind to something isn't as easy as he hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feelings abound in this extra long chapter, god. I apologize if you find this chapter a bit boring, there isn't much excitement but a whole lot of fluff? I promise more action ahead though! Thank you to the my beta Caristia once again for betaing this extra long chapter for me without complaining. And for doing it in such a short time. Once again I shamelessly pimp out my terrible tumblr to you all. [Follow me!](http://www.theazureaegis.tumblr.com) Enjoy chapter 18 everyone! LEAVE ME COMMENTS, you know you want to.
> 
> ON A SIDE NOTE I APOLOGIZE TO EVERYONE WHO READ THIS BEFORE I HAD A CHANCE TO FACT CHECK AND REMOVE MY NOTES FOR LINE BREAKS. It should be bearable now.

Canada.  The land of the maple leafed flag.  Land of the perpetual speech characteristic of ‘eh?’ that is usually located the end of _every_ sentence, phrase, and exclamation.  O’ Land of hockey and mooses, or was it meice?  Maybe it was just moose.  Like how the plural of fish is fish, whatever meice sounds superior anyways.

So, right they were headed to Canada now, much to Stiles own dismay, and a lot of dismay there was on this subject.  Although he had endlessly hoped that their next destination would somehow be infinitely cooler than Montana or Michigan, heck, he would've settled for a destination that didn’t start with the letter ‘M’ anymore, somehow Canada wasn’t quite exactly what he had pictured.  Hell, half the pack didn’t even know what a “Canada” was, which _really_ made him question his life choices in friends.

“Canada?” Scott’s face twisted a bit as Ry broke the news to them. 

It was early the next morning, and they had been woken up _extra_ early by Ry to go over a few things before the investigation team arrived to debrief them for their next destination.

“Isn’t that like, in China or something?” Scott’s gaze drifted towards the ceiling as he desperately tried to locate Canada on the probably poorly imagined map in his head as Allison buried her face in her hands silently weeping.  “I don’t even know any China-ese.”  He looked genuinely worried.

“ _Peter bit him.  It was Peter who bit him.  Peter Hale was the one who friggen bit him_.” Derek was mumbling it like a mantra under his breath running a hand down his extra stubbly face.

Derek had wandered over to stand next to him on the opposite side of the room that morning much to Stiles’s surprise.  Just yesterday the werewolf had seemed to be making an effort to avoid him like wolfs bane, but now the ice seemed to have at least temporarily thawed.  Now if only Stiles could work up the courage to talk to the damned alpha wolf.  But for today, he couldn’t help but snigger at Derek’s comment, a comment Derek probably didn’t even realize he was muttering out loud, which made it _that_ much more amusing.

“No, you idiot.” Jackson sharply cut in crossing his arms arrogantly.  “Canada is in like, Mexico or something.” He sounded so assured of himself, Lydia simply rolling her eyes from her resting place on an armchair beside him.

Snickering, Stiles couldn’t help but lean over towards Derek to assert his sass.  “No, but you sure did bite _that_ one.”  The agonizing groan he received as a response nearly making him split his sides in hilarity.

“No,” Ry trailed off after a pause, probably hoping that somehow this was a very, very bad joke.  “Canada, you know, that large chunk of land north of the U.S.A?” He looked between Scott and Jackson for any type of eureka moment.  Nothing.  “They have moose there?”  He used his hands to imitate little antlers on his head, and it was _really_ cute.  Well, Stiles thought so anyways, and so plural of moose is moose, huh, you learn something new everyday.

Recognition splayed across their faces as they finally got it.  “That’s not Canada.  That’s _Canadia_.”  Scott enunciated the word haughtily.

Stiles sprayed the small sip of water he had taken out of his nose, but not even that obstinate pain could abate the fit of laughter he was having now.  He was doubled over clutching his stomach before dropping to the floor roaring and literally rolling in laughter as Allison joined him shortly followed by Lydia.  He only stopped when he accidentally rolled on his recently healed arm, the dull spike of pain reminding him that he was presently on the floor laughing manically about something that was quite truly dumb.

Clearing his throat, Ry recuperated from his own minor bout of laughter with a leer on his face.  “Right then, we have been assigned to,” He paused looking over at Scott who looked extremely confused, the kicked puppy look taking residence where his face should have been.  “Canadia.  But before we depart, we just need to go over a few things.” His tone waivered, something alike to concern slowly creeping into his normally professional voice as he suddenly became excessively attentive to the placement of his feet on the floor.

Concerned.  Exactly what Stiles was at this moment.  Well, more freaking out internally at his own stupidity.  His mind flashed back to what had happened the night before in their bedroom.  Ry had kissed him.  And Ry was an brilliant kisser, only; only Stiles had pushed him away.  In his defense it was more of a small, miniscule, barely even there, probably wouldn’t have even felt it, nudge.  Only, Ry had felt it, and apologized as well.  Ry had apologized for something wrong that he didn’t even do.  Stiles was totally into the kiss, and completely into Ry.  It didn’t take _years_ of mulling for him to realize this.  He chuckled at the irony of his own thoughts, the person he pushed Ry away for wasn’t even interested in the least bit, and he hung his head as he realized he might have messed up something potentially very good.

 _What else is new, Stiles_?

To say he was beating himself up over his dumb move would be a harsh understatement.  Ever since he _had_ pushed Ry away the night before he had weird dreams about being alone and unwanted, being regretful for the rest of his life.  And that was something he never _ever_ wanted that to come to pass. 

But Ry _had_ come back to bed that night after showering, and even though there was no spooning or cuddling of any sorts, to Stiles’s dismay, he had awoken in the middle of the night from one of his nightmares, finding the fingers of their hands intertwined lightly.  He smiled dopily at the memory.  Maybe there was some hope left, he would just have to salvage whatever he could.

The light acquaintance of Derek’s upper arm to his shoulder shook him back into the world of the living, finding the alpha looking at him with an odd look on his face. The corners of the wolf’s mouth were twitching yet again, just like the morning before when he had said thank you for the undercooked bacon.  What he heck was going on with Derek’s face lately?  And why was he so close all of a sudden?  He hadn’t even realized that Derek was in his personal space a second ago.

“Stiles?” Ry was looking direly at him.

“Huh?  What?  George Washington?  A towel.  42?  Yes, that is my real first name, but just call me Stiles.” Stiles’s automated responses fired off all at once.  He groaned as his brain caught up with his mouth, chuckling nervously as Ry’s expression twisted to amusement.

“Ooookay.  But anyways I need you all to listen to what I’m about to say.  Please.” Ry sighed as he sat on the armrest of one of the recliners.

“The investigation team is part of the core branches of the Agency.  It’s like the mediating section of the organization.  So before they get here, we need to have our stories straight, especially about me and where you three,” Ry paused to look at Jackson, Derek, and Lydia, “stand with the organization.”

“You?” Jackson asked tilting his head as his eyes narrowed.

“Well, yes me.” Ry shifted looking around stopping when his eyes met Stiles’s.  “I’ve been in this organization for a little over four years now, just before I turned 18, so around the same age that you all are.  Minus Derek.” Ry nodded.  Derek only let out a tiny growl.  Ry presented a quick smile as an apology.

“Anyways, I used to work with the research and development department for a while, then I spent about a year on the investigation team.  Then, about a year ago, I moved into the field ops where I have been working with various teams as their tactical leader.” He paused to see if everyone was still with him, the entire room strangely quiet as he told his story.  “Anyways, as a tactical leader, we don’t usually dive straight into battles, not headfirst anyways.” He shrugged, looking down at his hands.

“But you rocked.  You kicked some serious ass in that fight.”  Scott was the one who spoke up first.

“Right,” Ry chuckle was slightly pained; the broad smile on his face a clear facade.  “About that.  I’ve always _just_ relied on weapons or martial arts in a fight.  What you saw, I’ve never shown anyone in the four years I’ve been in this organization.”  Ry sighed.

“So, they have no idea that you are,” Lydia started carefully, stopping a second to think.  “Well, basically that you have the enhanced ability to reflect matter and energy, and on top of that have some sort of mystical level nine,” She stopped once more, tapping a finger on her chin thoughtfully.  “Healing ability?” She raised an eyebrow at the man.

“How,” Ry’s mouth dropped opened in disbelief, shaking his head, his eyes going wide before narrowing them again.  “You--you analyzed my power by just _watching_ me during a battle?” Ry paused as Lydia offered a thoughtful look then merely nodding in affirmation.  “I’m, well, impressed.  But,” Ry smiled as he pointed a finger upwards, “it’s a level 10 ability.” He smirked.  “Which is exactly why I don’t want them to know I possess it.” Ry shook his head smiling.  “Well, at least now I know why they were so keen about recruiting your little group.  You all were stupendous in that last battle.  With all of the extra bells and whistles on that MSC it was at least a level 6.  And not only were you able to analyze its strengths and weaknesses in the heat of battle, but you were able to take it down without casualties.” Ry’s tone flattened a bit as he looked over at Stiles.

A million questions were shooting through his mind right about now, so curious about this mystery that was Ry Azur.

“So we shouldn’t be telling them about anything you can do?” Allison caught on a lot quicker than the rest of them.

Ry nodded.  “Well, the locator thing I can do is fine.  They know about that, my specialties according to the Agency are: Stealth tactics, locator specialties, special weapons expert, and martial arts mastery.  It would be best for me if you chose to keep the rest strictly between us.”

Ry’s slightly bashful tone made it a little easier to make it _not_ sound like he was bragging, but just a little bit.

“Your healing ability.  What is it?” Derek was blunt.

The gigantic sigh that followed was to be expected, by Stiles at the very least.  Ry _really_ didn’t want people to know about his ability.  The real question was, why?  His ability was awesome.

“Some sort of bodily fluid healing.  I’m guessing phoenix in origin.”  Lydia looked over at Stiles.  “He doesn’t want them to know because if they found out, he would be harvested.  Even I’ve heard rumors about people with phoenix powers being drained of all of their blood, saliva, and etcetera, for their healing properties.  The host body usually doesn’t survive.  The black market value and demand on them is far too high.”  She seemed a bit amused by her own knowledge.

Once again Stiles had been thinking out loud.  The shock value really should have diminished on himself by now, everyone else clearly expecting it.  He looked over at Ry with concern.  They would kill him if they found out, if not the Agency, then anyone else looking for riches and fortune, which could and would be anybody and everybody.

“We have to keep it a secret then.  All of it.”  Stiles found himself saying as all eyes in the room turned to him.  “He saved me guys.  I wouldn’t be here right now, if not for this guy right there.” He extended an arm towards Ry.  “The least we can do is safeguard his secret for him.”

Everyone in the room nodded slowly, solemnly.

“Thanks.” Ry whispered, smiling as his eyes darted to Stiles and back to the floor.

“I have questions for you though. I haven’t analyzed everything about you, like how you augment your strength and speed by just using your reflection ability?  From what I read, isn’t like creating a shield from light?” Lydia magically had a notebook out.

_Where did that notebook even come from?_

Stiles was gawking at her in disbelief.

“More time for questions later on.” Ry put up a hand and chuckled at the strawberry blonde.  “Right now we need to decide where you three stand in the organization.  And quickly, the investigation team is due here within the hour.”

This was the conversation Stiles was hoping to avoid.  From the small pow wow he had with Lydia just yesterday, he knew that it was pretty much up to him to convince the Alpha dog to go along with their little plan for now.  Derek was oddly quiet.  Well, he was _always_ quiet, with his words anyways.  But usually by now, there would be paragraphs and epic poems full of grunts, growls, and grimaces.  And so far?  Nothing.  It only made Stiles even more nervous.

“I think they should join the Agency.” Stiles spoke up unexpectedly, clearly, all heads turning towards the boy again.

It was shocking to him how he could say something with such confidence; yet feel like a lamb left to the slaughter.  He shrunk his head into his shoulders, maybe if he pretended to be a turtle people wouldn’t try to eat him.  Only savages ate turtles.

The look on Derek’s face was surprisingly without much actual _surprise_ on it.  He had a feeling that Lydia might have something to do with that.

“What are the chances of me being able to just drag their asses back to Beacon Hills?” Derek sighed.

“Well, if you truly wanted to, I suppose you could.  But, they do have a contract, and getting out of it would be tricky.  Not to mention their school and parents think they are out on an early admissions program.” Ry shrugged.

Stiles found the courage to nod fervently at Ry’s statement.

Derek furrowed his brow.

“I already had Danny hack into the school system and place Jackson and I under a similar early admissions program.” Lydia paused to glance over at Scott.  “Although ours sounds a lot more legitimate than McCall over there.”

“I really don’t know about _that_.  Jackson over there thought Canada was in _Mexico_.” Stiles’s mouth once again decided to run off without his brain.  “Which is closer than China.” Stiles gulped nervously.

Jackson growled as he advanced towards Stiles.  Derek stepped between Stiles and Jackson.  “Back off.” Derek growled menacingly as he turned to Ry.  “We will do this for now.  Until we can find a better way.”

Well, that was a lot smoother than Stiles contemplated that it would have gone.  And much to his surprise, everyone was indeed conscious at the end of the conversation.  Huh, who knew?

Ry acquiesced in the form of a nod.  “I’ll have B draw up some paperwork to make your absence at Beacon Hills High a bit more official.  Other than that their contracts already cover you and your families, so I believe you will be classified as freelance for now.”

“We stick together or no deal.” Derek curtly cut in.

“Never planned to separate you.” Ry smiled politely back at him.

“You however, are free to do what you please.” Derek pointed at Ry before turning to leave the room.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Ry’s statement felt like loaded as Derek stopped in his tracks, turning back to smirk at the man. 

“Didn’t think so.” Derek grunted.  “Not _that_ lucky.” He muttered under his breath.

What in Buddha’s name just happened?  Stiles was confused, and dammit, he spent more time confused nowadays than lucid.  This was seriously becoming a big problem for him, they were his emotions damn it, and he should be the boss of them! 

Nodding, Ry left the room via the stairs, probably going to retrieve some paperwork, or go do something attractive.

 _Psh, everything he does is attractive._ Stiles sighed.  _New goal: Become boss of emotions in a week or less._   He rolled his eyes as he realized the futileness of his plan of action.  Well, Canada ho, Stiles supposed cocking his head at this whole new predicament.

 

* * *

 

The investigation team was all suits and business, as expected.  He seriously felt like their debrief would end with a ‘look into this flashy light’ MIB moment, but much to his relief, they left Michigan with all of their memories intact, or at least still intact to his knowledge.  The suits had asked a lot of questions about what had happened, and for the most part each told the truth.  That is, the truth minus the little parts about Ry and the things he was capable of. 

Their jet ride to Canada was supposed to be short, clocking in a just over a couple hours, which Stiles _thought_ he could endure, but once again, surprise!  Derek plopped into a seat directly adjacent to the teen, actually brushing arms with him on the armrest divider, sending _feelings_ up and down his arm.  And wasn’t it a trip when Ry sat directly on the other side of Stiles beaming widely at him as Derek rumbled quietly beside him completely fixated on the same page of a random magazine for about twenty minutes before he gruffly moved on to just broodily staring out a window.

Stiles was not amused.  Perhaps a bit aroused, but amused, nope, nada.  He didn’t really like this whole not knowing what the hell was going on thing.  If he didn’t know any better, it almost felt like they were _competing_ for him.  But he knew better, oh boy did he know better than to think that, reasons forthcoming right about…now.

First off, he had no idea where he stood with Ry.  After that kiss, oh god that kiss, he felt so awkward around Ry as if he should always be apologizing or hell, trying that again.  He felt a bit light headed as he thought of all of the possibilities that could possibly bring.

And then there was Derek, the _Sourwolf_ Hale.  The mystery of an alpha wolf that was so hot and cold, he had no idea what was going on with _that._  The first of it was that the alpha had been avoiding him not too long ago, and now he was all up in his personal space.  Like.  All. The. Time.  Albeit it freaking him out just a little bit, it felt peculiarly familiar for some reason.  Like it was something he had been missing for a while, like the finding your favorite t-shirt after losing it in the laundry for a few weeks type familiar. 

He finally found a moment to mingle quietly with Lydia towards the back of the jet somewhere between broody nodding off and Ry excusing himself to the restroom.

“What the heck is up with Derek?” Stiles harshly whispered to her, making sure that he couldn’t be heard by the many, many furry people with supernatural hearing on board; lucky for him the jet engines provided a nice buffer for them.

Lydia flashed him a perplexed look for a second.  “Um, there are a million ways I could answer that question.”  Stiles raised a brow at her response.  She simply sighed.  “Well, first of all, he has trust issues, and obviously doesn’t own a razor.  Seriously he has no reason to be _that_ stubbly all the time.  He knows how to shave, he just chooses not to.”  Lydia looked amused at her own proclamation.

“No, not about his stubbly-ness.” He blinked rapidly at his own word.  “I mean he’s all up in my personal space all of a sudden.” He sighed.  “He isn’t like, planning to kill me when he gets me alone is he?  Because that would be a serious roadblock in my ten year plan to the presidency.”

“You have a ten year plan to presidency?”

“Yeah!  Totally, Stilinski Care will _totally_ blow that whole Oba—“ 

“Stop.” She held up her hand at him, a ghost of a smirk still left on her lips.  “It was rhetorical, and I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Him!” Stiles gestured wildly with both hands.  “All up in my space!  Like this morning, he was standing next to me practically rubbing his arm on me like a deranged, cuddly kitty cat.  And right now, he sat right next to me on the plane.”  Stiles was flailing a bit by now.  “It’s just confusing.  I don’t know if I should be fearing for my life or be happy that he’s just shoving me up against walls anymore!”

“Yeah?  And?  He is always in your space.  It’s normal.  It’s really not that big of a deal.”  She shrugged, probably ignoring the last part of his statement for his own sanity.  “ _Don’t tell me_ you’ve never noticed that, Stiles.” She gave him a look, a look like she was expecting him to shout ‘just kidding!’ any second now.  He didn’t.  “You’ve really _never_ noticed?”  She inclined an eyebrow at him.

And she was kind of right.  He reflected back to every time in the past, every encounter he could evoke.  Derek had usually always been close to him in proximity.  He knows it was just to protect him or at least that’s what it had been in the past, but now that he thought about it, Derek has just _always_ been there recently.  There, even when the danger wasn’t.  Perhaps this explained the whole familiarity thing he'd been struggling with just moments ago.  He _really_ hated being smart sometimes; it only made these moments that much worse, to realize your own blunders first hand.

“Well yeah--well, no.  I guess that, well, I’ve never really paid attention?”  Stiles squeaked as the realization continued to dawn on him.

“It’s _really_ not big deal.  It’s just something he does.” She shrugged at him nonchalantly, that little knowing smile spreading slowly across her face.

“I—“ he stopped as he noticed Ry wandering around the small jet, obviously looking around for someone, probably him. 

 _Speak of the devil, his other, other problem._   Stiles fondly thought.  “I gotta go.”

Lydia’s smile simply grew, slapping him on the rear as he turned tail.  “Go get 'em, tiger.” She whispered as he shot her a scandalized look, grabbing his tingling behind.  Ry, he should talk to Ry.  He needed to talk to Ry.  If not to apologize yet again, but to express that hey, he wanted this, too.  He was tired of pining for someone who was yet again, unobtainable.  Oh Buddha, he just admitted he was pining, and that really shouldn’t make him feel so terribly pathetic, but it did.  But now he knew that Ry was obtainable in a sense, and really, _really_ hot in that unobtainable way.  Why hadn’t he come to this realization 24 hours ago?  You know, before making an ass of himself?

He slid up to Ry with as much grace as he could muster, which unfortunately meant none at all.  “Heyyyyyy.” Stiles greeted Ry oddly, inwardly wincing at his new level of ineptness.

 _Great job, Stilinski, slide straight past normal and into awkward territory._   Stiles shook his head, he really should've been used to his own gawkiness by now.

“Hey there, Stiles.” A smile slowly spread across Ry’s face, all shiny white teeth between the dimples in his face.  Dimples.  How had he not noticed before?  Sure, they weren’t like the grand canyon of dimples, but they were pronounced enough.  In fact they looked like grown up dimples, mature dimples—if that was even possible.  But again, dimples!  He was key smashing in his head.  Just one more thing to add to the ‘I want to jump your bones’ category, and that list was getting too long for his liking, it was _already_ too _hard_ to resist sometimes.  Oh _great_ , more inappropriate puns!

“Stiles?” Ry tilted his head, clearly amused by whatever look was splayed across Stiles’s face.

“Hi.” Stiles squeaked back.  His vocabulary was dwindling; the blood was obviously everywhere else that _wasn’t_ his brain. 

“Hello.” Ry replied with a meek smile, his nerves showing for the first time since last night.

“Right.” He corrected himself, willing himself back into reality.  He was going to fix this, and fix it now.  Before he lost his nerve.  “I kinda wanted to talk about…” He trailed off looking around.  Everyone else seemed to be absorbed into something or another, or you know, each other.  Stiles made a face as Scott and Allison cuddled to the point where they honestly looked like just one entity.

“About…?” Ry trailed off, an expectant look on his face.

“Last night?” Stiles hated that he was practically squeaking every word of this conversation so far; he immediately smiled, trying to cover up his chew toy impression.

“Oh.” Ry looked anxious.  “Are you upset?” He offered and apologetic look as he shuffled in place.

“Upset? What—no!  Not mad at all.” To say Stiles was taken off guard would be accurate.  He really didn’t expect Ry to be all shy, meek, and cute about it.  “This is me, being not angry, in fact, the opposite of angry.  I am—I am sorry.” He was blurting it out all too fast.

Now apparently it was Ry’s turn to be taken aback.  “What are you sorry for Stiles?  You have nothing to apologize for.” 

His smile was distracting.  Damn it.

“No.  What happened, I didn’t mean to do it.  I don’t know what I was thinking—“

Ry opened his mouth at this, looking a bit confused.

“No, no, not the whole…” He lowered his voice.  “You know, kiss part.  But like the whole, me pushing you—I didn’t mean to—I mean that I—I really liked it and I don’t know why I did that.”  Stiles stopped to take in a breath.  He realized that he probably sounded like an idiot and was babbling senselessly, not to mention that he went really high pitched when he began to run out of air from talking so fast.  If Ry decided that he still liked him at the end of the conversation, he would be oh so ready to dive into his muscular awaiting arms.

Ry chuckled, evidently amused by all his babble-speak.  “I liked it too—the kiss part, I mean.” He nodded, beaming brightly at Stiles.

Right about now Stiles felt like he was melting into a pile of goop.  Dat smile.  Any hopes of proper brain function dashed as he leaned forward, his expression a bit goofy, as Ry leaned towards him, their eyes locked with each other.  Leaned closer, closer, and ever so close.

When abruptly Derek was next to him, cuffing him by his bicep, the bicep of his _injured_ arm.  Stiles yelped as he lurched forward, bashing Ry’s nose with his forehead.  Ry let out his own small bark as he reeled backwards, clutching his nose. 

“I am _so_ sorry, Ry!” Stiles apologized eyes wide, as he turned to shoot Derek the dirtiest look he could muster.

Derek looked smug for only a second, blanking his expression immediately when he noticed Stiles looking at him.

“What the hell is your problem?”  Stiles was seething as he yanked his injured arm back to himself.  Great, first he pushed Ry away, and now he head-butted the guy.  Their kiss record wasn’t exactly spotless and his hopes of actually, you know possibly _dating_ the guy were seriously dwindling by the second.  His heart sunk.

Shifting his eyes, Derek simply shrugged, mumbling, “It can wait till later.”  Before walking back over to his seat to sit down and pick up the nearest reading material.

Stiles pointed at Derek and cocked his head at Ry.  “What the heck is his problem?”

Ry muttered something that Stiles didn’t quite catch before flashing him a smile.  “No harm done.” He continued, sounding only a wee bit nasally as he was still pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand.  “I’m just going to—“ He stopped as he pointed at the lavatory as Stiles nodded making sure to look extra apologetic.

Groaning, Stiles begrudgingly trudged back to his seat next to Derek, pausing only to look over at Lydia, who flashed him an extremely amused look.  Well at least someone was getting a kick out of the horribly awkward and confusing situation that was only _his life._   Therapy.  Lots and lots of therapy, it would be his only hope to returning to a somewhat normal life and state of mind after all of this trauma.   He shot Derek a clear I-am-so-totally-not-insertbadwordhere-amused face as Derek merely chuckled before returning to his article on “10 Tips to Make your Garden Greener” in the Gardening magazine he was currently holding upside down.  Stiles shook his head.  Maybe embarrassing the human member in your werewolf pack was tip number 3.  It was _really_ the only reason he could think of.  The damned alpha wolf better have a friggen green ass garden hidden somewhere or he would have some _hell_ to pay.

 

* * *

 

Canada was actually a _lot_ more awesome than Stiles thought it would be.  Well, at least that’s what Stiles _really_ wanted to be able to say. But after disembarking from the plane and seeing pretty much the same scenery for the last few hours as they drove, and drove, and, with a little change in speed (which is in kilometers in Canada by the way), they drove some more, nice things and superlatives like ‘awesome’ were pretty much out of the picture.  As they passed by yet another cow, which Stiles was counting until he reached an unbuddhaly number like 300 or something, he sighed.  The entire car ride was unusually quiet.  Considering that there were five teenagers and two semi-adult-adults all jam-packed into a car with absolutely no scenery, minus the cows—it was a bit strange.

Ry was driving with Derek riding shotgun because even in the cases where he couldn’t be in control—Derek had to be in control.  He was constantly watching Ry as he drove down the seemingly endless road to who knows where, occasionally making comments about making sure he knew where he was going which only procured eye rolling from 81.715 percent of the passengers, Scott having fallen asleep hours ago.  Seriously, that boy could nap anywhere.

After what seemed like three days of driving, which really ended up to be about four hours plus bathroom breaks, they arrived in a city, like an actual, real City.  Not a small town somewhere in the deep regions of the woods, not some creepy haunted estate, not even a lavishly decorated cabin in the woods, but an actual City.  And it was a large city to boot Ottawa, Ontario of O’ Canadia.  Which was actually not _that_ far from Michigan, but apparently the nearest Agency based airport was quite a bit north from the City, and they had to backtrack back south to get here.  The city was full of lights, sounds, and people. 

The werewolves must have been going insane was Stiles’s first thought.  Scott looked immediately pained as he stepped out of the SUV in front of a hotel they were apparently staying at, very confused about what was going on or even where he was.  The other werewolves seemed to have adapted quickly, even Jackson looking more comfortable than Scott amongst the denizens of the bustling city.

“Where are we again?” Scott questioned, looking around.

“Canadia.” Stiles quickly answered with just a _hint_ of sarcasm.  If hint was defined as a truckload.

“But people are speaking like, French.” Scott tilted his head.

“People speak French in Canada, Scott.” Lydia answered before Stiles could.

“But I thought Ry said Canadia was in North America.  Isn’t France in Europe?”

At least he got the right continent this time.  Stiles sighed.  He really couldn’t help the feeling of protecting his best friend that was now taking over all of his more sarcastic senses.  “Let’s just get you inside, okay, buddy?”  Stiles slung his good arm over Scott’s shoulder as he led him into the lobby as Scott nodded, the rest of the pack close in tow.

The hotel was actually nice.  Scratch that, the hotel was _amazing._   And finally he got to use that superlative for at least _something_ in Canada.  Which was actually no surprise considering how _rich_ he supposed the Agency was.  The hotel itself was a towering building with a grand lobby, complete with bellhops, gargantuan potted plants that could pass as full sized trees and even a butler-looking individual patrolling around to offer the hotel guests some sparkling mineral water, which Lydia snatched up immediately upon being approached.  Stiles felt a little out of place in a grey hoodie and jeans as he declined the bubbly drink.  He searched around shortly, finding Ry checking them in at the front desk.  Suddenly he felt a bit apprehensive about the potential rooming assignments.

Turning around, Ry addressed the as a group.  “Alright, so I hope you don’t mind but I just booked us the penthouse suite.” He nodded as the collective of their eyes widened with shock and awe.  “You guys can head on up already, I just have to finish up some paperwork here.” He handed them each a room card.  One room. 

 _Phew, dodged that bullet._   Stiles though.

Despite the quiet in the car, everyone seemed to have livened up a bit now that they weren’t all cramped in a small space.  Except that they most definitely were, in the elevator of all places, and everyone seemed to be trying to talk over each other.  Lydia was excitedly chatting to Allison about shopping, Scott and Jackson were talking about possibly checking out some hockey games while they were in the area.  Apparently Jackson had looked up the ‘Canadia Land’ in the jet and was surprised to find out that they were like the kings of hockey.

“You know,” Stiles interrupted the glee, feeling a bit claustrophobic as the elevator climbed ever so slowly to the 30th floor.  “We might actually be here to just work on a case.  We didn’t get much time to ourselves the last few places we stopped.” He tried his best to look remorseful at the scandalized looks that Lydia and Jackson volleyed him.  Derek just simply let out a grunt of reinforcement, probably just happy that everyone had shut up.  Derek didn’t do well with small spaces either.  Must be a born werewolf thing, he thought to himself dubiously as Scott and Jackson looked fine. 

The elevator finally reached the penthouse suite, the elevator doors opening up into a rather large hallway leading to just one door.  Stiles immediately sprinted up to the door and swiped his key card, throwing open the entrance to a stupendous living area.   
It honestly reminded him a little of the cabin’s décor, but just so much better.  There were multiple comfy looking sectional couches positioned around a single rather large glass coffee table, a large flat screen television hung over an electric fireplace.  Towards the back of the living room was a large observation panel of glass overlooking the city, long bench seats at the foot of the window, the view spectacular as it faced north, the expanse of the city alit in the sunset’s amber glow.  Stiles clambered into the kitchen to the left of the living room to find a particularly large, fully equipped kitchen, including a multi-burner stove and two, count them _two_ ovens, and a French door refrigerator to boot.  He seriously would need some new pants after this because his were freshly creamed. 

“Check out this kitchen, guys!” Stiles called out from his new haven.

“Forget the kitchen, this view is awesome.” It was refreshing to hear the excitement in his best friend’s voice again.

Stiles threw open the refrigerator doors and grimaced.  It was empty!  He supposed it would be too much to ask to have a fully stocked refrigerator when they had _just_ booked in.  Well, he would have to go grocery shopping before the night was over.  Because no way were they ordering in, they didn’t need to give the Agency a reason to hate them with the way they _eat_.  He chuckled nervously at the guestimated room service bill.

“I’m gonna go grocery shopping!” Stiles called out making sure he had his wallet and key card.  He just stepped back out the door when he groaned, realizing he would have to carry a truckload of groceries back.  Perhaps he could catch Ry on the way out and ask to borrow the SUV?  He weighed his options as he waited for the elevator to arrive, deciding on just chancing it as the elevator dinged and he got in.  He searched for Ry in the lobby to no avail, the man simply nowhere to be found.  He sighed as he straightened his posture, resigning himself to walk to wherever the closest grocery store was.

The bustling City of Ottawa was surprisingly easy to navigate.  Or so he found out that his super computer could pull up the maps and schematics to most of the City within a matter of seconds.  Did he mention he was in _love_ with this machine?  And so what if Stiles was substituting artificial and mechanical love in the place of real love and feelings, at least his laptop loved him back.

Stiles quickly located the closest grocery store, which turned out to be just a two-block distance away from their fancy hotel.  He meandered in with a shopping cart, looking around slowly, relieved that most of the signs and prices seemed to be in English as he threw random groceries in to the cart, although the prices were in Canadian he guessed.  He stopped cold in front of the colorful display of morning cereals.

Prices.

Crap!

Stiles had no money.  No Canadian money anyways, they had their own currency, right?  And he really didn’t want to be charging the rather large grocery bill on the credit card that his father told him was only in the case of an emergency.  And even if he did, how would he explain the fact that he used the card in an emergency in Ottawa, Canada?  He threw his face into his hands and silently sobbed at his predicament.  His cart was _already_ half full with some random pastas and canned goods that he knew the pack loved. 

“If you get cereal, nothing with too much sugar.  You know how Scott gets.”

The gruff voice nearly made him wet himself as he flailed wildly, nearly knocking over the pyramid of Cheerios in the middle of the aisle.

Derek judgingly raised an eyebrow at him as Stiles clutched his heart and tried to steady his breathing. 

“Oh my Buddha, what is it with you?  It’s like every time you see me it’s once again time to _scare Stiles till he has a heart attack and dies_.”  Stiles really didn’t mean to sound so bitter.  Okay, maybe he kind of did.  And he was _so_ making Derek pay, Derek usually paid for the pack groceries anyways.

Derek was trying so hard to not look amused that he actually looked amused.  It was an odd character flaw of the alpha wolf.

Stiles managed an exasperated snuff as he knocked some Fruit Loops into the cart. 

“What did I just say about—“ Derek began.

“They are for me.”

“You don’t need the extra sugar either.” Derek put the Fruit Loops back on the shelf as he gave Stiles a look.

Stiles threw his hands in the air.  “Fine.  Fine.  Ruin all of my fun _and_ my breakfast.” He shook his head as he headed towards the meats department, where the bulk of the purchase would be made.  Stiles pretty much grabbed one of everything, of course making sure that it was as fresh as possible, stopping in the cheese department to pick up some amazingness that was simply Havarti and Gouda cheese.  He _loved_ that stuff.  Derek was trailing closely behind him, making small comments—well, grunts really—about whether he approved of what went into the cart and what didn’t.  But Derek was close enough that Stiles could _smell_ him, the piney-fresh scent ever so familiar in his nostrils.  Stiles paused as he picked up the chunk of Gouda. 

“Hey, what deity do Asian mice pray to?” Stiles set up the premise to his _awesome_ joke.

Derek simply tilted an extra thick eyebrow, staring straight at him.

Stiles stared back, refusing to lose this impromptu staring contest.

Derek finally sighed after a few seconds, relenting.  “What, Stiles.” He rolled his eyes.

“Gouda.” Stiles couldn’t help but laugh.  “But I know, it’s a bit _cheesy._ ”  He began slapping his knee as innocent onlookers looked slightly anxious by the sight.

Derek huffed something that sounded oddly akin to a chuckle before shoving Stiles further down the cheese aisle.  

Their little domestic shopping trip lasted about an hour, going back and forth through the store deciding if they really needed that much food.  They weren’t actually sure how long they were staying in Ottawa, but they came to the decision that all the food would probably be gone by tomorrow anyways, with the way that their pack ate, even without Isaac, Erica and Boyd present. 

It was actually normal shopping with Derek, even _nice_ dare he say it.  Derek was surprisingly helpful whenever Stiles questioned his own choices for food or drinks, even going as far as actually openly chuckling at the random jokes and puns Stiles would tell whenever he saw a food item that fit the punch line. 

Their total turned out to be way more than Stiles would have been able to afford and Derek paid with his card.  Feeling just only a teensy bit guilty about making Derek pay, then making him carry the majority of the groceries back to the hotel as they put everything away.  Most of the pack was passed out or sitting in front of the television as Stiles decided what to make for a pre-dinner snack, as the pack had informed him that Ry had just left to go pick up something for dinner tonight.  Which was okay since Stiles felt like he could use a break from cooking duty after that extended, but nice, shopping trip.  He turned to Derek as the alpha shoved things randomly into the fridge.  Seriously, did he never play Tetris before?  He decided to ignore the fact that Derek had absolutely no Tetris skills and thank the werewolf for once.

“Derek?” Stiles didn’t know why his voice sounded so unsure, so vulnerable.  Derek stopped what he was doing immediately to look over, a quizzical look on his face.

“Thank you.” Stiles said earnestly, smiling brightly at him.

This seemed to catch the Sourwolf off guard, his gaze flicking around the kitchen for a bit before coming to rest back on the boy before he solely nodded and _smiled_.

“Oh my buddha.  I think I broke you.” Stiles’s eyes widened as his jaw dropped, staring at the wolf, the wolf’s eyes narrowing in confusion.  “Your mouth, its doing a thing.  It’s like, it’s bending!  What, what is that?!” Stiles tried his best to sound completely horrified.

Derek rolled his eyes as he threw a pack of sausages at the boy, said boy breaking into an infectious laugh and soon even Derek began laughing as well.  And wasn’t that an amazing thing to hear, Derek Hale, laughing.  It was such an odd sound Stiles almost didn’t recognize it at first.  When it hit him, it was just like the expressions that he couldn’t identify before, the morning Derek had brought him breakfast, the next morning when Derek had been standing next to him, the twitching of his mouth?  The apocalypse had to be approaching if Derek Hale was trying to smile, and smile at Stiles Stilinkski, _both_ times for no apparent reason.  And he _really_ shouldn’t be finding this whole situation cute right now, a warm feeling spreading in his chest.  Now that would be _completely_ inappropriate.

Derek shook his head as he headed out of the kitchen, when Stiles noticed it.  A box of Fruit Loops buried on the bottom of the last bag of groceries.  His heart fluttered as he picked it up, Derek’s laugh ringing in his ears, his gorgeous smile flashing in his memories.  He stopped, dropping the box as his eyes widened.

He was _so_ fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know one of these days I might decide to not end with a cliffhanger. Maybe. :)
> 
> LEAVE ME COMMENTS QUESTIONS AND CONCERNS!!!! They make me write faster. :D


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious new character appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fighting me the whole time I was writing it. It's hard to keep my motivation up sometimes and everyone should thank Caristia for yelling at me that she _needed_ this fic, and therefore I shouldn't drop it.  
>  Betaed by the charismatic Caristia. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy! <3
> 
>  
> 
> [ FOLLOW ME FOR UPDATES ON THIS STORY!!!](http://www.theazureaegis.tumblr.com)

Cooking usually always helped Stiles when needed that extra time to just _think_.  It was something about the act of doing the one thing that he was simply amazing at, that helped him feel confident enough to power through his thoughts.  That, and the fact that _nobody_ usually dared to interrupt a cooking Stiles in the fear that Stiles, O’ god of the skillet, would swiftly ban them from eating whatever delectable foodstuffs he was whipping up.

So technically, cooking the sausages that had just been flung at his frontal lobe only minutes ago should have theoretically allowed Stiles to think clearly.  Except it didn't.  And the stupid bird with a rainbow beak, staring gaily at him from its abode on a cardboard box of cereal currently sitting on top of the refrigerator, of course _had_ to be to blame. Oh Buddha, the implications of that last thought.  A cardboard box of sugary cereal really shouldn’t be having this sort of effect on him.  Perhaps a bit of a sugary rush _after_ consuming the box of multi-colored loops that tasted nothing like fruit at all?  Yes.  But right at this moment, the high he was experiencing wasn’t sugar related, in fact it couldn’t even be considered a high at all.  Because all of the confliction and feelings he’s been trying to avoid for weeks now felt like the weight of the world as it came crashing down upon him.

Sure, he had been pretty _elated_ when he realized that Derek Hale had snuck in a box of Fruit Loops—just for Stiles. And even before that, endured an entire shopping adventure with one Stiles Stilinski while actually making it an actual _better_ overall experience.  However, all of this just _had_ to happen after making a sort of resolve to try and patch things up with Ry, to pursue Ry. 

Ry who had _always_ been such a sweet, caring, and just plain amazing guy.  Ry, who had kissed him and openly admitted to liking it.  Ry who was remarkably _hot._

So of course Stiles couldn’t really help it if he felt like he was back at square one, between a rock and a slightly broodier rock with thicker eyebrows and a strong disposition against _any_ feelings at all.  He really shouldn’t be complaining, he thought, there are far worse problems in the world. 

Like starvation, or being eaten alive by hungry werewolves. 

He really needed to concentrate on the snack he was preparing, as many _hungry_ pairs of eyes were beginning to peek into the kitchen. Accompanied by the occasional growls that were audible to even human ears, most likely from their stomachs than their throats.  He flipped the sausages in the pan as he looked around for a knife and a cutting board.  Ry would be back from the take out place soon, according to Jackson, and with him a whole bunch of feels that he really didn’t want to face right now.

His problem, however, was that he was getting hung up on something that he just _knew_ would end up being, well, the end of him.  His sudden and very inappropriate feelings for Derek Hale were most likely one sided, and boy did that _really_ not help with the torrent of emotions that he was feeling towards Ry.  Stiles liked Ry.  He knew that much.  But he also now knew for sure that he kind of, sort of, maybe liked Derek, too?  And not in the friendly sort of ‘hey I respect you, you respect me, sort of way’ either.  To be fair, they had reached that stage a while ago, just never really calling each other out on it.  But that was the kind of relationship that they had with each other!  Which is how Stiles knew that whatever he was feeling towards the alpha could never actually happen, but somehow he was still letting it get in the way of taking things a step further with Ry.  It just didn’t feel right to try and take things further with someone when you might be just as interested in someone else.  Stiles sighed as he fished out a small cutting board and knife, turning off the burner to the frying pan and tossing all of the sausages into a plate before slicing them.  He stabbed toothpicks into each piece of sausage with a bit more force than necessary while muttering nothings under his breath; a couple of the wooden spits splintering in the process. 

 _Great, now I’ll have to add anger management to the long list of psychological needs in my near future._   Stiles inwardly groaned as he carried the large platter of sausages into the living room and then placed it on the large coffee table. 

The delectable aroma of the sausages cooking had immediately woken up everyone in the penthouse suite, the hoard of drooling teenagers wiping out nearly half the platter as soon as it was set down.  Not that Stiles even noticed, as he meandered back into the kitchen in a daze, sluggishly draping himself over the counter as he moaned something comparable to ‘how is this even his life?’

“Stiles.” A familiar low voice called from his left, the however very unfamiliar sound of concern laced roughly between the vowels in his name.

“Der—“ Stiles started, shooting his body upwards, nearly bashing his head into Derek’s chin. “—ek!”  Stiles offered a meek expression as Derek had taken a step back in the nick of time.

 _Werewolf reflexes are so not fair!_ He mused to himself suddenly reminded of how he had brained Ry in the nose on the airplane just this afternoon.

Derek suddenly looked uncomfortable, his eyes shifting nervously alternating from Stiles, to the floor, and what looked suspiciously like the box of Fruit Loops on the top of the fridge.  Stiles narrowed his eyes, suddenly intrigued.

“Did you—“ he began nervously.  “Did you, I mean—“ He found himself pointing at the box of Fruit Loops before dumbly pointing at himself.  “For me?”  He gnawed on his bottom lip as he waited for an answer, hating himself for even asking.

The scoff he received made his heart drop into his stomach.  He should have expected it, really.  Stiles had probably somehow knocked two boxes into the cart and Derek had only seen one.  In all reality it was just a scoff, and Stiles knew this. But it honestly felt like exactly the answer he had been looking for, the answer he had been mulling over for the last few weeks.  That scoff was more along the lines of a confirmation that while yes, Derek may think of him as pack and tolerate him, there was no way in heaven or hell that Derek Hale was interested in Stiles Stilinski as anything more than just that.  How could he have been so stupid?  To think that Derek might actually—to think that he just could car—no.  Stiles refused to let that thought reach fruition.

“Forget it.” Stiles held up his hand, blinking back the sudden stinging behind his eyes. 

But Derek had a pained look on his face.  Almost regretful, not that it mattered at the moment since Stiles was currently a bit occupied.

 _Really?  You’re going to cry?  Really?  Man up, Stilinski._ He violently shook his head before mumbling an “I’ll talk to you later.”  Stomping out of the kitchen in a hurry.  He ignored the hushed “No, wait, Stiles.” And _probably_ could even get away with saying he didn’t hear the “Please, Stiles,” as he made a dash towards the front door.  The rest of the pack was probably too engrossed in the pre-dinner snack to bother to even notice what was going on. Stiles himself not even noticing as his arm caught the corner of a decorative piece of—something, that was strategically placed next on a table just outside the kitchen, earning him a shallow slice across his forearm. 

He made it out the door as the elevator dinged, an exhausted looking Ry stepping out, carrying what looked like two tons of take out food in _each_ hand.  Ry did a double take as he noticed Stiles standing awkwardly in front of the elevator desperately avoiding eye contact.

“Stiles?” Ry questioned, concerned as he tilted his head towards the boy.

“I—I just need some air right now.” Stiles stepped past the man and into the elevator, mashing the button labeled “L” a bit violently as Ry looked like he was internally debating if he should just drop all of the food and try to stop Stiles from leaving.  Ry grit his teeth, most likely knowing that something was wrong, but also not knowing if he would be able to help, his eyes darting from Stiles to Stiles’s arm.  Stiles really hated that he knew exactly how to analyze people at that moment, the guilt a bit too much to bear as a single tear leaked down his cheek.  He was mad at himself, it wasn’t really Derek’s fault, and no way in hell was it Ry’s fault.  Yet here he was, making Ry feel uneasy.

Ry stepped forward seeing him cry as the doors quickly began to close, Derek bursting out from the suite just in time to see Stiles’s bloodshot, teary eyes as the elevator doors shut with a muted bump.

 

* * *

 

Ottawa didn’t turn out to be such a lively night place.  He had been wandering the city for a few hours now. At least without really knowing where he was going at all, the biggest ruckus he found was a couple of denizens deciding that trash was unacceptable and that they should be cleaning the city at this god-awful hour at night.  He had contemplated getting plastered and had actually passed by a few bars that were still open, but while the legal drinking age in Canada was apparently 19, he was sadly a still very freshly turned 18.  He grimaced as he sat down on a public bench outside of a closed boutique, sighing heavily into his hands.  He had so hurriedly rushed out of the hotel that he had forgotten to grab his messenger bag with all of his gadgets and now it seemed that he was a bit lost in the big city.  To make matters worse, he was most definitely wearing his special deodorant now that Derek and the crew were back in his eventful life, the latest batch of the emotion-blocking deodorant extra strong—meaning that there was no way that his pack would be able to track him by scent.  Not that he really wanted to be found right now, or at all, really.  Stiles felt tired, he felt a bit angry, a bit selfish, and even a little bit silly, but most of all Stiles felt stupid. 

Completely and utterly _stupid—_ maybe idiotic would be the more choice word for him. 

Even after ragging on himself for the last few hours for letting himself get lulled into a false train of thought, he felt bewildered by his own feelings and most of all, why they were affecting him so much. 

Stiles knew that Ry was interested so he really shouldn’t feel bad that his thing with Derek didn’t really pan out as he wanted, and he genuinely liked Ry.  It was more of the fact that Derek still thought of Stiles as somewhat of a joke that _really_ hurt, and realizing you are having _feels_ towards someone who thinks you’re a gag?  Stiles _really_ doesn’t recommend it.  A spike of pain shot through his chest at this thought.

 _Being part of the pack?  Right.  Mutual trust?  My ass.  What a jerk._   Stiles couldn’t help but feel angry.  He punched the bench he was sitting on hard, wincing as he pulled his fist back up to inspect his now _bleeding_ knuckles as his eyes widened, finally noticing the shallow gash across his forearm which was caked in dried blood by now.  He grimaced.

 _Damn it!_   Stiles wanted to scream.  He clutched his head with both hands as he pulled his head towards his knees trying to catch his breath.  He _needed_ to get back in control he knew this feeling all too well. The tightness in his chest, his brain going a mile a minute as he desperately clung to the knowledge that he _should_ remember how to breathe.  A panic attack was not something one should be having this late at night, while lost in, of all places, Ottawa, Canada.

A warm, familiar hand patted him gently on his back as another wrapped around his shoulder pulling him in for a chaste hug just as he was about to lose it.  Stiles knew these arms, and while they weren’t exactly who he had been expecting, he'd truly missed them.

“Scott.” Stiles mumbled from the awkward pose he was forced into during the impromptu hug. Scott had never been a great hugger.  Stiles, on the other hand, was an _excellent_ hugger.

“Hey, buddy.” Scott sounded concerned.  “What are you doing out here, man?” He finally released Stiles, the boy slowly un-crumpling himself to look his best friend in the eye.

His mouth dropped open, the semblance of an excuse of an answer on the tip of his tongue when Stiles stopped and shook his head slowly.  “I honestly have no idea.” He offered a wry smile.

“Everyone is worried.  Lydia practically flipped out on Derek.”  Scott explained flicking his eyes towards his best friend.  “Seriously, he looked like swallowed a cactus.”  He shrugged.

“Derek?  How did she-?” Stiles didn’t even bother finishing his own question, it _was_ Lydia after all; he shook his head fondly.

“So what did the jerk do now?”  Scott’s tone was casual.

Stiles sighed at the loaded question.  It was more along the lines of what _didn’t_ Derek do.  “Nothing, really.”  Stiles shrugged as noncommittally as he could muster, Scott shooting him a hurt puppy look as a response.  “What?” Stiles feigned innocence before cracking under his puppy dog gaze.

“I think—“ Stiles really didn’t want to admit this, not at all.  “I let myself think”, he corrected himself, “that Derek might actually care about me.”  His shoulder slumped as the words left his mouth.

“But he does.” There was no hesitance in Scott’s statement; it was a bit jarring to even hear as his heart did a small backflip, Scott undoubtedly hearing the unwilling display of emotion in his ribcage. 

“W-What makes you say that?” Stiles hated the fact that he stuttered.

“Well, he was like flipping out when you got hurt.  And he even offered to give you the bite if it would save you.”  Scott looked like he was in deep thought as he answered.  “He would have done everything for you, just as he would have done for any of us werewolves in the pack.” Scott smiled brightly at his words as Stiles let his heart drop back into his stomach. 

 _He would have done everything, just as he would have done for any of the other werewolves._   He let his friend’s words echo in his thoughts.  Stiles knew, he knew why it wasn’t something he wanted to hear.  But he also knew that it should make him happy.  If Derek would do anything he would have done for the rest of the ‘real’ pack, he should be elated. At least the guy didn’t want to kill him, maybe.  Stiles let out his frustration in a heavy sigh, shifting his eyes upwards to meet with his best buddy in the whole wide world.

He remembered.  He remembered Scott’s broken voice in his near-death state, as he'd fallen through the darkness, only hearing the familiar voices of his pack.  How Scott had begged Derek, begged everyone to not let him go, to save him.  He could feel the tears returning as he wrapped his arms around Scott, giving him a patented Stilinski man hug of _awesomeness_ , free of charge even.

Smiling, Stiles finally pulled back from the hug a few minutes later, an apprehensive look on Scott’s face.  “Thanks.” Stiles said firmly, nodding at his best friend. 

“Anything for you, buddy.” Scott’s voice was comforting, as Stiles recovered from his unscheduled display of emotions.  “But is that why you ran out?”

Stiles hated Scott for being so observant right now.  “Yes and no.” he admitted, Scott’s expression returning to its default—confused.  “I have feelings for Ry.” He blurted it out to distract Scott from the whole ‘I freaked out because I thought Derek cared about me’ train of thought.

“Yeah, I’ve actually noticed.”

And wow, if even Scott noticed then _everyone_ had to know by now.

“Well you _have_ been sharing a room with him.  And you look all happy and goofy whenever you two are together.” Scott didn’t even bother to hide the knowing smile on his face.  “I’m happy if you’re happy, man.  You’re my best friend, my brother from another mother.  It doesn’t matter who you like.” Scott bro-punched his shoulder, smiling brightly.  “And if it helps, I think Ry likes you, too.”

Stiles nodded at his best friend as his words sank in.  If he had amazing friends like this, who needed Derek to care more about Stiles?   “Again, thanks.”  If Derek cared about Stiles as part of the pack, he supposed he could be happy with just that—it could be enough.  After all, it really cleared things up for him and Ry, the ultimate green light, he supposed. His brief smile was interrupted by the memory of the look on Ry’s face as he'd run out of the hotel earlier.  He groaned loudly.

“What?” Scott asked, tilting his head, further accentuating his already crooked jaw line.  He really shouldn’t be finding this funny.

“How pissed off is Ry?” Stiles offered a meek expression as he stared at his shoes.  “I kind of almost ran him over as I left, and then I just disappeared.”

“Um, I’m guessing he’s just worried.  But pissed?  Probably not, considering-” He looked around tentatively, searching for someone.

Stiles perked up as he looked around as well, was someone there?

“He was the one who tracked you down, actually.” Scott explained as he gave up looking for whatever it was he was searching for.  “We couldn’t catch your scent for some reason.” Scott looked confused.

Poor Scott.  Stiles had been using this whole deodorant thing for almost a year now and the poor kid _still_ hadn’t caught on.  He pat his friend fondly on his shoulder as Scott’s explanation set in.  “We?”

“Yeah, everyone went out looking for you.  But Ry pulled me aside, said that I should be the one to talk to you.” Scott shrugged as his head snapped northward.  “There he is.” He pointed in the same direction, but nobody was there.

“Huh?” Stiles questioned.

“Oh, I hear him over there.” Scott shrugged.  “He’s on the phone with Lydia—I think.  I can’t hear who’s on the other end.  But he’s telling them that we found you and you’re relatively safe.”  He smiled as Stiles groaned.  “Oh, he just said that when we're ready he can take us back in the SUV.”

“They will never let me live this down, will they?”  Stiles sunk into the bench covering his face with his hands dramatically.

“I think everyone will be happy that you’re safe.” Scott said after a little while.  “I know I am.”

“Awww, you big sap.  You have no idea how attractive you are to me right now.  I was joking last time, but can we seriously make out right now?  I’d totally let you get to third base _right now_.” Stiles jabbed at Scott with his elbow as he leaned towards the wolf, Scott jumping off of the bench at the motion, looking a bit scandalized. 

“Allison said that if I ever kissed another guy, she had to be present to watch.  And take pictures.” Scott looked surprised at his own slip, covering his mouth as he realized what he said.

“You’ve got a camera on that phone, right?” Stiles deadpanned, nodding towards his pocket.

Scott’s mouth dropped open slightly.

“Let’s just get back so we can ask Allison herself, shall we?” Stiles got up and linked arms with his best pal as he rolled his eyes, walking in the direction Ry was waiting for them.

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, they had a few days off.  So Allison and Lydia went shopping, Scott and Jackson hit up a hockey game, and Derek mysteriously disappeared to wherever he disappears to.

It was only about a level 5 of awkwardness when he got back with Scott and Ry, Derek just saying, “I’m sorry”, before walking off to brood somewhere in the penthouse by himself.  But Derek really had nothing to be sorry for, and Stiles let him know it.  But it seemed that once again, avoiding Stiles like the plague was the flavor of the week. He had barely seen the alpha wolf aside from training, because he was required to train as well, and during meals. 

The good news however, was that this left a lot of time for Stiles to spend with Ry.  Which is why they were currently out, together, at a park of all places, wrapped up in way too many layers to run around and have fun, yet Stiles found that he was still having a blast.

“Batman.”  Stiles decided.  “No wait, Iron Man.  He’s like Batman but way richer and smarter.” He explained to Ry as he nodded quickly.

“Really?”  Ry looked shocked.  “My all time favorite has to be Captain America.”

Stiles scoffed.

“What?” Ry quirked an eyebrow, “The man was interested in helping everyone else, totally selfless.” He turned to face Stiles, locking eyes with him.  “I guess it’s just a weakness of mine.” He licked his lips.

Stiles forced himself to look away as he felt his cheeks heating. 

 _Only Ry could make discussing their favorite super heroes sexy._ Stiles found himself thinking.  They hadn’t really had a _moment_ since the first time—the time he pushed Ry away.  Even with all the time they spent together Ry always had kept himself in check, being true to his word, never pressuring Stiles in any way.  And it was only a little awkward now, having come to terms with a few things in his heart and mind, so he figured, what the heck?  Stiles turned slowly to catch Ry’s gaze, his breath hitching as he gazed into the deep blues and greens, raising a tentative hand to cradle the older man’s chin softly as he slowly tilted his face downwards, guiding it slowly to his own.  Their lips met like the first snowflake falling in the winter.  It was slow, graceful, and it simply took his breath away. 

Ry was the first to deepen the kiss, surprised at first, but not letting this sudden green light go to waste as he asked permission—with his tongue, to explore Stiles’s.

In all honesty it was wet, slick, hot, a little sticky, and, right, _a-freaking-mazing_.  This time it was so much better, he knew what he wanted and Ry was willing to give it, and boy was he giving it _good_.  He could feel himself melting backwards as Ry began to dominate the kiss, pulling Stiles along for the ride, stopping only to breathe, but only when Stiles’s face began to turn blue, not that Stiles had even noticed the lack of the life-sustaining gas.  They were both breathing hard, faces red from the lack of oxygen when they pulled back from the face sucking, as Scott would call it sometimes.

“That was,” Stiles was panting as he looked into Ry’s glazed over eyes, seeing his own wrecked expression in the reflection.

“Spectacular.” Ry finished his sentence in a British accent.

Stiles quirked an eyebrow at Ry, diving in for another, much shorter, but still just as passionate kiss; Ry’s face twisted into an ear to ear grin as they parted for the second time.  “Buddha, accents are _so_ sexy.”  Stiles whispered.

“I may consider using this one all the time then.” Ry replied authentically.

“I think I may be in like with you.” Stiles blurted it out, his heart beating irrationally as Ry’s expression softened, his smile widening even more if it was even possible. But as Ry was leaning in for round three, the jingle of his phone rang out sharply through the air.

Stiles groaned.  _Stupid phone._

Ry chuckled as if reading his thoughts, swooping in for a quick peck before answering his phone.

“Azur.” He answered.  “Mhmm.  Okay.  Heading back now.” Ry nodded as he hung up the phone.

“I’m guessing that wasn’t a fancy restaurant confirming our reservations for tonight?” Stiles joked as he dropped his head into Ry’s collarbone effectively muffling his voice.

“Sadly, no.” Ry chuckled.  “We have to get back to the hotel, our next assignment is waiting for us.”

“Five more minutes.” Stiles whispered into Ry’s ear, stopping to nibble at the soft lobe, earning him an illicit moan from the man. 

“Stiles, we’re in public!” Ry tried his best to sound disconcerted, shot right past it into turned on.

  
“An exhibitionist at heart?” Stiles deadpanned.  “I can work with that.”

Ry chuckled, helping Stiles up from the blanket they had set on the ground before folding it up and tucking it under his arm.

“Maybe later.” Ry teased, a lecherous grin on his face.

“Definitely later.” Stiles grinned.

 

* * *

 

“Who?” Stiles stopped dead in his tracks staring blankly at the very sad, very tiny girl in front of him in the middle of the penthouse’s living room.  She had to be about 4’ 3” and couldn’t be over the age of ten.  Her light brown, somewhat curly locks tied into a neat ponytail hanging forlornly behind her as her deep turquoise eyes attempted to tell her sad story.  She was dressed in a simple white dress, smudged with a little dirt around her waist, where it was clear she wrung it whenever she was nervous, one of her hands gripping the white cloth as the other clutched a large leather-bound book firmly, tiny silver snowflake earrings dangling from her earlobes.

Stiles’s mouth dropped open as he pointed at the girl, looking around at the confused expressions across everyone’s faces, clearly indicating that they, too, were indeed seeing the little girl, and he was, in fact, not hallucinating.

“This is Cari.” Ry stepped forward to introduce her, only the slightest bit of uneasiness in his expression.  “And our mission is to protect her.”  He winked at the little girl as a small smile appeared on her face.  “We’ve met only once before, a couple of years ago.” He explained.

The little girl—Cari, gulped as her little eyes darted around the room to each of their faces, stopping when she reached Stiles’s.  Her tiny mouth bending into a frown, her eyebrows knitting together as she studied his face.

 

“That one.” She said as she ran to hide behind Ry’s leg.  “Twenty- four hours.” She said, peeking out from behind Ry. 

Ry visibly stiffened.

“Till what, honey?” Allison cooed, a bright smile on her face as she kneeled down in front of the girl.

“The moth man told me so.”  She buried her face into the Ry’s lower back.  “Twenty-four hours till he dies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I told you one of these days I wouldn't end it with a cliffhanger.
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Non-flamingorangryemails will determine how quickly I write the next chapter!!! :D
> 
> IM SO GLAD YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE I LIVE.
> 
> <3  
> -Azur


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down the rabbit hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to write this chapter for you all as a birthday gift, seeing as it was my birthday yesterday/today (for some of you)! I'm sorry it took so long and it's a tad bit short, but hopefully it gets you all psyched for what's about to happen next. Betaed by the charismatic Caristia.
> 
> Enjoy!

If Stiles had a nickel for every time he thought he was going to die, he would indeed be a very rich man.  Between the death glares that Derek shot his way nearly daily, the irrational fear that everything and anything could potentially kill him, and the fact that, oh right, he freaking battled supernatural creatures on a near weekly basis, he rarely went a day—heck, barely an hour without the feeling that the breath he was currently taking might just be his last.  Once again, therapy majorly needed. 

So the little brown headed girl who had just told him that he had about 24 hour left to live honestly didn’t surprise him as much as it should have.  He threw his hands up in the air.  
“Holy fuc—Fire truck.  Yeah, fire truck.”  Stiles ignored the looks of concern, disbelief, and—guess what?  The angry crimson eyes that seemed to be focused on the little girl—Cari who was now completely behind Ry as she let out a small whimper at the alpha’s reaction.

Ry was the first to shake out of his post-grave-news trance as he blinked rapidly, crouching down to hold Cari gently by the shoulders with both hands as he farced a smile.  “Cari, what did you mean by that?”  His voice was surprisingly steady—the steadiness that only comes with practice, Stiles noted.  
Cari gulped as her eyes flicked around the room at the myriad of expressions before settling on Ry’s smiling face.  She scrunched her eyes closed.  “I—I’m just tellin’ what the Dusty said.”  Her voice sounded so small—so innocent.

“Dusty?” Stiles couldn’t help the bemused look on his face before suddenly remembering just whom Dusty was referring to.   
Cari resolved with a small nod.

“Is Dusty…” Ry began pausing as if searching for a word.  “A ‘oogie man?”  He looked unsure, quirking an eyebrow.

Rolling her eyes, Cari exaggeratedly swung her head, huffing her cheeks out.  “Nooooo, Wy!” She looked offended now.  “That’s what I called them when I was like six.”  She rolled her little eyes.  
Chuckling, Ry shook his head.  “I’m sorry, Cari.”  He smiled.  “What do you call them now?”  
“Ph—pha--fantas.”  Cari looked proud of herself as she struggled to sound out the name. Someone in the room made a very distinct squeal as she smiled.

“What?” Allison looked guilty.  “It was sooo cute.” She was displaying a very ‘Scott’ grin as she threaded her hands together, pulling them towards her chest.

“Okay, not that I’m surprised or anything, but can we get back to the whole I’m dying in 24 hours thing?”  Stiles sounded more annoyed than worried.

“Hey, Cari?” Ry smiled once again at the tiny girl in front of him.  “I need to talk to my friends for a little while.  B said she packed you like, a million new storybooks in the suitcase in that room!” Ry sounded genuinely excited.  Which in turn got Cari super excited—well as excited as a tiny, sad looking girl could get as she walked over to the room and quickly opened a small purple suitcase, yanking out a few books before moving out of sight in the adjacent room.

All eyes turned to Ry.  He smiled sheepishly.  “So, Cari is special.  She can speak to harbingers.” 

Scott opened his mouth.

“Harbingers are entities that can appear within our world to symbolize different things.  They are very powerful beings.”  Ry explained before Scott could ask.

Lydia nodded thoughtfully.  “But although they can appear within our world, a large amount of magical energy or supernatural forces are needed for them to transpire.”

“Right.” Ry nodded at Lydia’s explanation.  “Cari can communicate with them in their normal world, another plane if you will.”

“So what you’re saying is litt—Cari,” Stiles nodded, “she talked to that creepy moth thing I saw back at the cabin and it told her I’m going to die?” The events from the week before came flooding back to him as he remembered those eyes, the light yellow color of the moth man’s eyes as he creepily stared at him through the window.  His body broke out in goose bumps as he shivered slightly.

“We will keep him in the hotel then.  Stiles doesn’t leave the room.”  Derek’s gruff voice cut through the silence that had settled after Stiles had posed his question.  Everyone was already nodding.

“Wait, doesn’t Stiles get a say in this?” Stiles pointed at himself.

“No, dead people don’t have an opinion.”  Derek pinned him with just a look.

“I’m not dead yet.”

“After 24 hours pass, you get your opinion back.”

Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek Hale was actually making a joke.  “Look, I’m all for living and all that jazz, but who says that,” he looked over to where Cari was quietly reading before lowering his voice.  “Cari or her ‘fantoms’ are even right about this?”

“It is said that harbingers hail from a plane that is closer to the realm of death.” Ry looked down as he spoke.  “Cari has never been wrong about this sort of thing before.” 

Derek growled.

Stiles froze.  So this wasn’t just a random bit of information.  In fact, from what Ry was saying, he was as good as dead.

“She hasn’t been wrong, but it doesn’t mean we’re not going to try and save you, Stiles.” Ry was looking Stiles in the eye.

And Stiles had apparently said that aloud, again.

Everyone was still shooting him concerned looks.  Except Derek, who was shooting a pissed look at Ry for some reason as he clenched his fists.  Why was Derek mad at Ry?  Analysis would be saved for later, and hopefully it would be analyzed within the next 23 hours.  If he lived through this he was so getting Derek a claw proofed stress ball.

“Wait, wasn’t our mission to protect her?” Stiles looked around, putting his hands up defensively.  “Not that I’m complaining that you all want to keep me alive and all.” He looked down as a small smile started on his face.  What?  He couldn’t help it if he felt really good about that.  He shook his head.  “But really, if she is in danger, shouldn’t that be priority number one?”  Everyone looked over at the innocent little girl reading her books in the bedroom.

Ry flashed a genuine smile at Stiles as a reward for his statement.  “She’s been moved around so much since she was discovered by the Agency.” Ry looked a tad bit forlorn.  “Too many people want to take advantage of her gifts, and she just wants to be a normal girl.”

“How do you know?” Allison’s voice was soft.

Ry pointed at her books.  “She’s obsessed with fairy tales.  She just loves reading them and hoping that one day she will be rescued.  That thick leather one she always carries around?  That was a gift from her mother before she passed.”

Stiles felt the familiar gut-punching feeling of mother talk.  He couldn’t help but feel a teensy bit jealous since he didn’t really have any sort of keepsake like that from his own mother.  But now wasn’t the time to be jealous.  Both of their lives were apparently on the line.

“What’s hunting her?” Jackson surprisingly took the words right out of his brain.

Shaking his head, Ry looked back towards the pack.  “Agency said that she was saying the phantoms were telling her she was in danger.  That’s usually the sign that someone is after her—most likely a witch or a warlock that wants the connection with the harbingers.”  He sighed.  “Her latest safe house was nearby so they asked us to keep an eye on her until they can ready another.”

Stiles nodded as he studied the different expressions in the room, trying to formulate a plan to keep her safe.  Everyone seemed to be paying attention to what Ry was saying, either a concerned or a kicked puppy look, with the exception of, guess who? Derek, who was looking straight at Stiles.  Stiles had to look away from the intense gaze Derek was shooting his way.

What? Suddenly Derek cares again?  Stiles stopped his train of thought.  Of course Derek cared, just like if it was anyone else in the pack that was being death-clocked, he would do the same for them, he begrudgingly reminded himself.   But now he was getting off track.

“Lyds and I can work on some protection charms for the penthouse.  And maybe even a detection spell on the elevator?” Stiles thought out loud.

“We can set up a werewolf rotation to keep watch on the doors.” Scott chimed in helpfully.  Wow, wasn’t that a trip. 

Stiles tried not to look as surprised as he actually was.  Scott was really pulling through today.  “That’s a great plan, use them stupidly sensitive senses of yours!  And maybe Ry can use his awesome locator powers to keep watch when a werewolf isn’t?”

“Sure thing, boss.” Ry smiled as he gave Stiles a small salute.

Derek rolled his eyes before grunting.  “Keep watch on both kids.”  He contributed, pointing at Stiles and Cari before stalking off to his bedroom.

“How long before the next safe house is ready?” Allison looked like she was itching to go into the bedroom with Cari.

“A few days, a week at the most.” Ry shrugged.

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us then, Stilinski.” Lydia strode over to Stiles, cuffing his arm as she pulled him away towards the kitchen. Stiles’s suspicions were confirmed as he watched Allison let out a small squee as she ran into the room where Cari was asking if it was okay to read a story to her.

“You’re not allowed to die, Stiles.” Lydia reminded him as she pulled out her notebook of protection spells.  “So lets get started, shall we?” Her death smile was on.  


* * *

 

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful.  The furries worked out some sort of schedule to keep watch over the penthouse as Ry went out to buy about a week’s worth of groceries so that they wouldn’t have to leave the hotel for anything essential.  So now their entire refrigerator was stocked, they had a slew of protection charms and spells not only throughout penthouse suite, but the entire hotel was protected.

It was only during the next morning when Stiles awoke with the feeling of dread pooling in his stomach.  Today was the day he was going to die.  It had been predicted, foreseen even. 

His death. 

Precognition performed by an eight-year-old and her ‘fantoms’ and everything.  It was finally starting to hit him at t-minus 10 hours till his predetermined demise.  He really tried to hide the shortness of breath he was feeling, thinking of anything else to try and distract him from the shit storm that was brewing in his thoughts.  His fears and doubts that he was going to pull through this crashing down on him.  A very shirtless Ry rolled over on the bed draping his arm lazily across Stiles’s midsection pulling him closer to his chest, providing an adequate distraction from all the happenings in his head.  Because yeah, apparently they were still sharing a room, to quite the audible dismay of a certain alpha wolf which had practically snarled when it was bedtime and Stiles had followed Ry into his room.  And Stiles understood, really he did.  Derek did love his puppy piles, but Stiles had never been invited to those, so it would be just awkward.   But then again, Stiles was the self-proclaimed king of awkwardness.

If Ry’s arm didn’t distract him from his impending panic attack of doom, his brain tangent sure did.  He felt better; lying there trying to think of any reason Derek would have to actually bark at Stiles for sharing a room with Ry.  Ry, who Stiles had some pretty heavy petting sessions with within the last day or so, and Derek oh so knew it.  You’d have to be—what’s the scent equivalent of blindness?  Well, that to not notice when you’re a fire truckin’ werewolf.  What?  Stiles liked his little anti-swearing word.  And he had to use it while doing internal monologue, because apparently he had no sense of what he was actually saying out loud.

Except now he really didn’t want to die.  He liked Ry and Ry liked him.  It would totally suck to die before he got to do—well, many other things with Ry that went past the heavy petting.  Unless he was petting a certain other part of Ry’s anatomy. 

_Great, now I need a cold shower._ Stiles groaned as he shifted himself uncomfortably.

“Or I could just take care of that for you.”  The whisper in his ear shot a shiver straight to his groin, Ry mouthing a line from his hear to his collarbone slowly.

So of course that’s when the entire room began flashing between red and blue.  Stiles shot up with a start as soon as he realized what it was.  Their protection charm had been activated.  To be more specific, someone had dispelled it upon activation, hence the blue with the red.

“Lydia!” Stiles shouted scrambling out of bed quickly, Ry close behind him pulling a shirt over his head. 

“They’re in the hallway already!” Scott bellowed from the living room.  Someone had apparently fallen asleep during his or her shift. 

Jackson had the sense to look sheepish as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes as everyone gathered in the living room, a scared looking Cari clutching her mother’s book, hiding behind one of Allison’s legs as she deftly knocked an arrow.

Everyone seemed ready as the door splintered, leaving only the hinges left pathetically hanging from the door frame.

A single woman dressed completely in black, her long onyx hair pulled back into a single braid trailing behind her, stepped into the doorframe, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face.

“Give me the girl, and I won’t have to kill all of you.” She announced almost bubbly. 

“Seriously, that’s the best line you could come up with?” Stiles scrutinized.  “Did your kidnapping manual only have the most cliché movies for reference?  I mean, really, lady?”  Stiles’s brain to mouth filter was clearly in the off position.  Oh wait—he didn’t even have a brain to mouth filter.

She smirked. 

“Guess I’ll have to kill you first then.” She stepped through the doorway as Derek roared, launching himself at the woman.  Simply raising her hand, a sort of invisible barrier slapping Derek away

Ry went rigid.  “No,” he whispered.  “Not you.”

“She’s a witch.  She dispelled 90 percent of the charms already.” Lydia concluded, quickly beginning a spell under her breath.

The mystery woman actually chuckled at her before stopping her eyes locking on Ry.  “Ry Azur.  I never thought I’d see you again.” She gave him a once over.  “You’re looking especially tasty nowadays.”  She raised her hand again as Scott and Jackson made a lunge at her, swatting them away effortlessly.  Ry walked over to Allison and Cari, placing himself between the two and the mysterious witch.

Two arrows whizzed through the air before planting themselves in the wall where the witch had been only a second ago. Stiles was reaching into his bag for a couple of vials of a brown liquid, quickly lobbing them at her.

The vials shattered to the left and right of her, missing her by a few feet.  She laughed.  “Really, Azur?  This is your crack team of agents now?  Pathetic.” She raised her hand bashing Derek aside as he tried for a lunge at her from behind.  She continued walking towards Cari, that evil smirk pasted on her face, little Cari desperately clutching to Allison as she knocked another arrow and took aim.  The arrows shot wide, going too far to her right to hit her as the woman let loose another loud bout of giggles. 

“Really, this is not even worth my time.” She stopped as she tried to move, looking down. 

Stiles smiled as she narrowed her eyes at him, realizing just what he had done.  “The vials of liquid were an extremely powerful adhesive, and Aly over there was herding you into them with her arrows.  She’s an amazing shot actually.  And I usually don’t miss.” Stiles winked at her.

She responded with a look of amusement.

“Now!” Stiles shouted as he tossed another vial her way.

She quickly raised her hands creating a ripple in the air, the vial shattering on it, the liquid spilling in front of her as Lydia released her spell, chains of light wrapping quickly around her torso and legs, binding her tightly.

Ry smirked.  “Syn.  They will be better than you ever were.  You could probably learn a thing or two from them.”

Syn was struggling with the chains of light as her feet were literally glued to the floor.  Her smile was fading as she realized she was in quite the pickle, her eyes beginning to glow a deep indigo.  “Enough!” Her voice shook the entire building; small cracks beginning to form in the chains that bound her.  She began chanting a spell, loudly.

“Everyone down!”  Ry’s smile faded.  “No. You wouldn’t.” He trailed off, pushing Allison and Cari quickly aside, his entire body emanating the blue hue as an azure barrier formed around Syn.

“My book!” Cari squeaked as the book careened across the room.

Scott ran to Allison, Jackson to Lydia pulling them to the ground as the glowing intensified, the large windows in the hotel room exploding as the light kept intensifying to a blinding level.

“Guys, I don’t think…” Ry grit out his words as he struggled to contain the raw energy.  “I—I can’t contain it!” He shouted as bright cracks splintered across the azure shield.

“Nooo!” Cari’s scream pulsed around the room.

The shield shattered in a brilliance of blues and purples, the blast wave from the spell expanding rapidly from the woman as Stiles felt a familiar weight descent upon him, hearing someone shouting his name as his head hit the floor.  And suddenly he was spinning, spinning downwards.  Then everything was black.

* * *

 

Cold.  It was really cold.  Was it snowing?  Canada was known for its snowiness, after all.  But seriously, it was really freaking cold.  Stiles awoke with a start as he found himself shivering, his teeth clacking together.  He pulled himself into a sitting position as he tentatively looked around.  He was in the woods, somewhere. It looked oddly like the park in Michigan with all the snow, but something was different.  It was unusually bright, and almost cheery.  Or maybe it was just the fact that the birds were singing. 

Stiles forced himself up, dusting off the snow on his outfit.  Wait—what?  His outfit?  He was currently donning a pretty plain white shirt, V-neck and actually laced together as opposed to buttons.  And what the heck was with his shorts, plain and brown, almost like something you would see in medieval times.  Stiles was confused and alone as he wandered the bright, cheery forest for all of ten minutes before stumbling upon a small cabin.  Perhaps he was back in Michigan after all.  But how did he get back there?

“White!” A deep but surprisingly small voice sounded from the window, almost cartoony. 

“Hey now!  I understand that I’m pale and all, but no need to call me names!” Stiles quipped without thinking.  He looked around, not seeing anyone as he approached the window the voice seemed to be coming from.

“No, silly!” The voice sounded again. Stiles he looked down into the cabin, spotting a short, slightly round looking man with a beard and a hat.  “It’s your name, silly.” 

“Oh my god, you’re a dwarf.” Stiles stumbled backwards as the head popped up above the window frame, rosy cheeks jutted outwards in a smile.  “Wait—my—my name?!” 

“Of course, your name.” The tiny person—the dwarf, he wasn’t really sure what the politically correct term really was—rolled his eyes.  “You know, Stiles—“

Stiles was confused about how this vertically challenged man knew his name.  
“—Stiles White.”

He let his jaw hit the cheery, white fire-truckin’ snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek awakes to find some familiar faces amongst a strange land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long! You know the drill: Read, comment, kudos.
> 
> Thanks for being so patient!
> 
> Betaed by the charismatic Caristia again. Enjoy!

He was comfortable.  Like, _really_ comfortable, more so than he had been in ages — he couldn’t even remember the last time he'd felt this comfy. That was the first thing he noticed which, of course, meant that something _had_ to be undeniably wrong.  Derek fought hard against the lethargy as he ran his hand along the soft — probably one thousand something thread count—sheets that he was currently snoozing on.

Blinking blearily, he forced himself up into a sitting position as he let the thick, rather intricately embellished comforter slip down into his lap as he looked around.  No, he definitely was not in his bed — not that he even had a bed, the inflatable mattress in the half-renovated Hale house being the closest thing that he’s had to an actual mattress _in years_.   So no, he was not in his house.  He was calm as he looked around the quite large room he was situated in, the décor rather fancy and almost _regal_ if he had to choose a word for it. 

Damn Stiles and his word of the day calendar.  He really should have just tossed it like he had planned or actually gave it to Scott, instead of buying another one and gifting it to the lost puppy because hey, the boy _could_ actually use something like that thing.

Derek scrunched his nose as he took in the scents of his surroundings.  Everything smelled pretty normal, nothing truly standing out.  That really should have been his first clue, but the golden sunlight streaming in through the eastern facing windows casting their radiant glow on the foot of his bed might have just been a tad bit mesmerizing.  He tilted his head and wondered if perhaps he was still in the hotel — the hotel in Canada — fragments of memories making their way back into his brain.  But he shook his head, as although the décor was similar, it was at the same time, remarkably different something was out of place, or rather out of the right time. 

“Hmm.” Derek hummed to himself, remaining amazingly composed about the whole situation seeing as the last thing he remembered was — _shit._

The panic appeared to irrevocably surface as he remembered — remembered the Witch, or whatever she was that had attacked them in their hotel, the explosion, and the sheer power of that last spell before everything had gone black. 

_Stiles._

The fact that Stiles was the only human in the pack that couldn’t _really_ defend himself would be his reasoning to why the only consistently flailing member of his pack was the first person to come to mind as the worry pervaded his being.  Except Stiles could indeed defend himself.  He could even do a little magic.  Derek really hated his logical train of thinking right about now.

The loud rapping on the door interrupted his train of thought — he was _almost_ relieved.  Until he realized that he had no idea where he was, how long he was out, and all of this after a rather violent and mysterious attack from a powerful adversary in black.  That, and the fact that someone was now bursting into the room he had literally just woken up in.  He really needed to prioritize right now.

Werewolf reflexes kicking in, Derek immediately vaulted himself off of the bed behind the rather sizeable armoire across the room, pressing himself between the wall and the oversized piece of furniture out of the immediate view of the doorway.

“Derek!” A strangely familiar voice called out.

Derek froze.  He knew this voice.  But it was impossible, there was just no way.

“Derek, my boy, where are you?”  The sound of footsteps echoed through the stone room as the intruder wandered further in, Derek too lost in shock to notice the invader spotting him after meandering to the center of the room.

“There you are!” The man stopped, giving Derek a once over.  “What”, he paused raising a finger to his chin, an amused look on his face, “ _Exactly_ are you doing over there?”

Derek refused to look up.  He knew he was dead, there was just no way that this could be happening, and it _had_ to be a spell.  Derek had learned long ago that living with false hope about _anything_ was a luxury he couldn’t afford.  Which probably explained the whole situation with Sti—

“Derek?” Concern lined in the man’s voice finally caused his head to snap up as Derek let his mouth drop open.

A middle aged man stood in the center of the room, a golden crown encrusted with jewels nestled on his full head of dark hair, save for the few strands near the sides of his head streaked with silver framing the familiar lines of his face, the angles of his jaw nearly identical to his own.  He donned an outfit that matched the décor of the room, _regal,_ the intricate patterns on his short robe matching the golden and reds laced on the man’s vest worn below.  He cocked an eyebrow at Derek, clearly waiting for some sort of response.

“Dad.” It came out softer than he had expected, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth as the creases near the man’s eyes smoothed out flashing Derek a grin as he gave a quick nod.

“You feeling alright, Derek?  I was worried for a second there that you may have hit your head in your sleep again!” He let out a hearty chuckle as he wiped at his eye, only stopping when he noticed that Derek hadn’t moved an inch since he spotted him.

“Son. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. What’s going on with you today?”

Derek shook himself from his disbelief realizing that it had been about five minutes since his _father_ had found him _._   His father who was dead, who had burned alive in his house with the rest of his family — save for Laura and Peter.

The man flashed Derek an entertained look as he eyed his son’s clothing.  “Did you _just_ wake up Derek?” He groaned as he shook his head dropping his voice to a whisper.  “Your mother is going to have a _cow_ if she sees you’re still in your nightwear.  Seriously, what’s going on with you son?”

Derek just shuffled a bit in place his mouth still catching flies.  _My mother?  She’s here, too?_

“Liam!” A woman’s melodic voice floated through the open doorway.  “Did you find him?”

A tingle of hope churned in Derek’s stomach.  It was the voice of his mother — that much was certain.  Derek gulped, his throat suddenly dry.

“Found him, Alex!  He’s still getting ready!”  His father hollered back.  “Well, whatever is going on with you, snap out of it.  It’s a big day for you!  Our _special_ guests have just arrived from Alaronia.”  Derek guessed he looked even more confused as his father sighed heavily.  “You know, our neighboring kingdom to the north?  The one with all the coal mines?”

Derek just cocked his head a bit, the new information not really reaching a place of comprehension just yet.

Liam just sighed at his son.  “Come on, let’s get you into your best clothes, before your mother has a cow _and_ two horses.”  He chuckled at his own joke moving over to open the gigantic armoire that Derek had decided was a terrible hiding place, pulling out a set of clothing that mirrored his own regal set.  “I’ll delay your mother.  You have about ten minutes to get dressed and come down before she orders the maids to fetch you.  And you know how much Bertha likes to help you dress.” The grin that ghosted across his face was telltale enough about this ‘Bertha’ character.

Derek quickly picked up the clothes as his father moved towards the door pausing as before pulling it shut.  “Derek, I’m proud of you son.  This treaty will insure that our kingdoms' futures remain peaceful.  You’re doing your kingdom proud today.”  He gave a tight nod as he closed the door, the massive chunk of wood shutting with a hollow thunk.

Derek sat on the bed the moment the door shut, garbs of gold and scarlet clothing in hand as he rapidly blinked.

 _My parents are alive._   He didn’t allow himself to believe his own statement though, he knew better.  Or rather his brain knew better, but his body couldn’t contain the excitement, the relief, the pain, the longing.  He had barely come to terms with losing them after so many years, could he really let it happen again if this all wasn’t real?

“Derek Hale!  You better be down here in ten minutes!”

He never figured out how someone with such a sweet voice could make him sweat so much.  But then again, it was his mother.  He pushed his thoughts aside as he got dressed.  Whatever this was, he needed to figure it out but he had nothing without more information.  So it looked like for now at least, he would be playing along with whatever this was.

 

* * *

 

“Derek! Finally!  I was beginning to think you had gotten lost.”  His mother glided over to him, her elegant dark chocolate hair flowing freely behind her as deep emerald eyes speckled with hazel beamed fondly at him.  He couldn’t help but smile back as she embraced him in one of her classic mother-bear hugs.  He frowned slightly as she pulled away, her eyes checking his outfit as if making sure she hadn’t rifled or wrinkled anything important.  He desperately ignored the pinching feeling in his chest, because no—he can’t let himself have this, not even for a moment.

Truth be told, he _had_ gotten quite lost.  He had taken the full ten minutes to dress, trying to figure out exactly how anything he was wearing could actually be _put_ _on_ considering there were no zippers and half of the buttons seemed to be merely for decorative purposes.  But after finally dressing — and he had to admit, he didn’t look half bad — if only Stiles could see hi—right, after finally dressing, he had wandered the halls of apparently his _castle_ for about twenty more minutes before finding his mother and father making small talk with two other people at a table that could have probably seated a third world country.

“Sorry”, Derek mumbled, not quite finding his words yet before taking a better look at their guests who were rapidly approaching the trio of Hales.  He stopped, narrowing his eyes cautiously.

Victoria and Chris Argent stood before him donning outfits quite similar to the Hales’, save for the main color of theirs being a regal shade of purple.  He made a mental note to find more synonyms to ‘regal’ in the near future if possible. 

“You remember King Chris, Queen Victoria, right, Derek?” Liam gave Derek a stiff pat on his shoulder, shaking him from his trance. 

 _Kings and Queens.  Huh._   He found himself nodding absently.  _Well, if my parents are alive in…whatever this is, then I suppose Victoria would be, too._ He tried his best to smile pleasantly at the Argents, a fleeting gesture as Victoria offered her hand to his father first, his father planting a chaste kiss on her hand before turning to Derek, an expected look splayed across her face.

Derek carefully accepted the hand debating whether he should bite it rather than kiss it, but decided that he really needed to find out more before making trouble for his parents — his could-be parents.  Whatever, Stiles was the one who would come up with the ridiculous names for the weird, strange happenstance, and people.  He was _still_ trying to figure out what the heck a “Geranima” was—something about the Kanima and Allison’s psycho grandfather. 

“Now, now, enough with the formalities _King_ Liam!” Chris barked out giving Liam a hefty pat on the shoulder, turning to Derek.  “You’ve grown into quite a fine lad.  It’s been ages since we’ve last seen you.” Chris firmly shook Derek’s hand, his light blue eyes showing no signs of recognition or confusion.  Maybe Derek was dreaming this whole thing.  Apparently his parents were royalty in this strange, strange world.

“Quite, you’ve got Alexis’s eyes.” Victoria chimed in the normal tone of venom lacking, “And Liam’s cheekbones.” She chuckled, raising the back of her overly adorned hand to her mouth as she tilted her head back into the gesture.

Derek gave a wry smile and a tight nod.  It had been ages since _anyone_ had said that to him.  Not since there were no more _parents_ to compare his own features to.  His thoughts muted the sounds of another pair of footsteps entering the grand dining room.

“Derek!” A voice practically squeaked — a very Disney-like squeak in fact — not that Derek knew Disney, well he _did_ but he blames Stiles for that one.  His head shot up as Victoria glared the newcomer a pointed look.  “I—I mean, Prince Derek.”  Allison corrected herself curtsying to him, as if she had been practicing for the last few hours, before locking her eyes with his.  Oh yeah, definite recognition and concern laced between them looks.  The fact that he was now “Prince Derek” was pushed to the back of his mind.

“Alli—“ Derek stopped quickly taking the cue from the pointed pressure on his lower back via _Queen_ Alexis Hale behind him.  “Princess Allison?” He honestly didn’t mean for it to sound so much like a question.

Allison nodded guiltily, a bit flushed.  Her long hair neatly done, two braids near her ears loosely joining together in the back, a single silver tiara rested upon her head.  She was wearing an _extremely_ fluffy pink dress; one of those that looked like it required a corset to even attempt to put on.  Unquestionably _Princess_ Allison.

King Liam cleared his throat.  He was probably supposed to say something.

“You’re looking…healthy.”  Yes, that _was_ the first thing that came to mind when his mother whispered ‘compliment her’ in his ear.  So he was bad with any social situation, sue him.

He heard his father groan behind him as Chris let out a small chuckle, Victoria just looked a bit pissed.

“Beautifully healthy.” Derek corrected quickly, offering an awkward gleam of pearly whites.  And she was.  Just not really Derek’s type — he swore off Argents long ago, along with other _unknown_ reasons that may or may not begin with the a letter in the alphabet between R and T.

Allison’s complexion became slightly redder, her eyes watching the floor with purpose.

“Come now”, King Liam spoke up.  “We just have a few things to discuss about the treaty.  Let’s leave the these two to talk while we share a drink?”  Liam nodded as he gestured to the table.

Chris and Victoria nodded, smiling as they made their way back to the football field of a dining room table.

“Derek, go show Princess Allison the gardens, I’m sure she’d like to see that.” His mother smiled at him, looking over to Allison for a response.  She nodded quickly before looking over to Derek flashing him the subtlest ‘we need to talk’ eyes that he had ever witnessed.  Which was a huge improvement to the ‘signal’ Scott and Stiles preferred, some weird desperately exuberant flailing gesture that they seemed to pick up from a movie called ‘Team America’? 

Derek nodded, quickly stopping when a realization was dawning on him.  “Which way is that, again?”  He offered his mother a meek expression. 

Queen Alexis sighed fondly.  “Out that door over there and down the stairs, follow the hallway to the west and you can't miss it.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Derek let the it slip, the clenching feeling in his heart making him immediately regret his own words as he hurriedly walked over to the doorway she had gestured to, Allison closely in tow.

They were already halfway down the hallway by the time Allison finally spoke up.  “Are those—“ She stopped, looking to Derek as if for permission.

He dismissed her with a curt wave.  “Yeah.”

“They seem nice.”  Her smile was laced with apprehension, he knew that she was _trying_ to be sensitive to him, the one thing Allison _always_ did.

“It’s fine.  It’s not really them.”  He stopped as they reached a set of grand wooden double doors, the round iron clad handles giving way to a bright, cheery, and very colorful garden, complete with a fountain and warbling birds.  He turned to Allison words on the tip of his tongue as the girl was looking around wide eyed, the familiar blush creeping up on her cheeks as she gazed around with fascination.

“Allison.”  He managed to grunt out.

“Yes?” She squeaked, her eyes snapping back to him immediately. 

“So you remember?” He trailed off bobbing his head expectantly.

“Being in Canada?  The witch that was after Cari?” She rambled a bit, blinking rapidly.

“I literally just woke up about twenty minutes ago.” Derek sighed, holding his temples with between his thumb and ring fingers.

The Princess looked taken aback.  “Really?” She jutted her head back in disbelief.

“Does it _look_ like I’m joking?”  Derek was getting slightly irritated with this whole situation.

“Well, I woke up about a day ago.  My parents—“ She stopped flicking her eyes towards Derek as if he had visibly winced at the word ‘parents’. 

He flashed his best ‘go on’ look ignoring whatever implications her actions might have revealed.

“Well yeah, they said we were late?  And I just spent the whole day riding a _carriage_ to your kingdom.”  Allison sighed.  “My toosh is all numb now.  I tried asking some general questions but it seems they know nothing about whatever we remember.  Seems like your par—the king and queen of this…err… area are in the dark as well.”

He really hated the fact that Allison felt the need to walk on eggshells around him, he was the Alpha, damn it.

“Stop that.  You can say whatever you want to me Allison.”  Derek scrunched his face.  He really did _like_ Allison; it was always more of the matter of her liking _him_ or at least tolerating him _._   “You’re pack.”  His statement surprised him almost as much as it surprised her judging by the look plastered on her face.

“Oh.” She said quietly, trying to hide the small smile on her face. 

“Anyways?”  Derek prodded trying not to sound impatient.

“Oh, right.  Anyways, I thought I was dreaming until we got here and I saw the way you were looking at me, at everyone actually.  Like something wasn’t right — like _everything_ wasn’t right.”  She picked nervously at her fingernails as she averted her gaze a bit.

“So you haven’t seen anyone else?”

She shook her head.  “It’s kind of ironic.  We _just_ all got back together.  And now this.” Her voice tapered off.  “My best guess right now is that only the people caught in the spell probably know what’s going on.  It’s obvious that everyone else…” She paused before quickly starting again.  “Is part of the spell, as you know your parents and my mother are … no longer with us.”  She swallowed dryly.  “I’ve been thinking… do you think somehow we went back in time?”

“I don’t know.  But, it’s doubtful.  I don’t recall anywhere in the world being named Alaronia, that’s what my fath—king Liam had said you _haled_ from.”

Allison chuckled a bit stopping.  “Alaronia?  Why does that sound so familiar?  I swear I’ve heard that name from somewhere, recently too.”  She looked deep in thought.

Derek picked up a rock from the ground, tossing it into the air before catching it in his hand again.  “Well if you remember, let me know right away.”  It came out very order-like.  “But if you’re right about this, then that means only Jackson, Scott, Lydia, Stiles, Cari, you and me would know what’s really going on.”

“And Ry.” Allison chimed in, nodding considerately

 _Ry._ Derek couldn’t help but feeling this was somehow his fault.  The witch had known him for god’s sake and he had provoked her.  He ignored the fact that he did the exact same thing with the Alpha pack, scrutiny about his hypocrisy was not up for discussion.

“Right, _Ry.”_ Derek grit out angrily.  And no, his fury was not because Stiles smelled _so_ much like the man recently.  And apparently they were _still_ sharing a room.  He clenched his fist, grimacing at the powder now in his palm where the rock had just been.  “We just have to find this and figure out how to get out of…” He gestured wildly to everything around them.  “This.”

Allison’s judgmental look was fleeting.  She quickly changed the subject.

“Yeah, sounds good.  Isn’t this garden beautiful?” She sounded breathless as she rushed over to the fountain, twirling around in her fluffy pink dress while inhaling the fresh air.

And yeah, Derek had to admit; this was pretty, well — pretty.  It was nothing like what he had expected after figuring out that this was in fact, not a dream.  He really expected the spell of some evil witch that came to kidnap their charge and kill them to be more…morose?

Again, stupid, stupid word of the day calendar, he made an empty promise to take it out off of the wall from the inside of his closet and burn it.

“You’re enjoying this — whatever _this_ is.  Way. Too. Much.”  Derek couldn’t help his enunciation or the slight look of amusement.  Stiles _did_ always call Allison the Disney princess of the group.  Allison looked embarrassed, which was evidence enough.

“We should probably start back soon.  There’s apparently some big treaty signing party tonight.  Wouldn’t want to be late to that.”

“Alright.” Allison looked disappointed as she shuffled her way back to where Derek was standing a very familiar kicked-puppy expression on her face.

Derek sighed.  “Fine, ten more minutes.”

Allison squealed only a little bit.

 

* * *

 

Queen Alexis was waiting for them when then finally made their way back to the grand dining hall they had been situated in earlier, a pleasant smile on her face.

“I take it Prince Derek was the perfect gentleman, yes?” She flashed him a pointed look.

“He was.” Allison replied smiling, even doing a little curtsey.

“Good.” Alexis nodded at Derek.  “Now we have to get you two into your clothes for tonight.  Everything is prepared in the courtyard for the ceremony.  There will be a grand feast afterwards in your honor.”

A dark haired woman stepped into the room, her features striking and beautiful at the same time.  But he had always thought of her features like that.

“Laura.” Derek whispered.

Allison stiffened next to him.

“Laura will help you into with your wedding gown, Allison.”  Alexis smiled holding a hand out to signal that yes, indeed, the other woman in the room was indeed Laura Hale.

“Okay—wait, wedding gown?” Allison did her best to keep her tone consistent.  Failure.

Alexis looked taken aback, Laura mirroring her expression, their features nearly identical.

“Congratulations?” Derek offered to Allison looking a bit meek.  He felt sorry for the girl, getting married off by her parents—wait.  Something wasn’t right.  Why was she getting married at his family’s castle?

“Sorry, I—I just wedding jitters, you know?” Allison chuckled nervously, jabbing Derek’s side with her elbow, a pleading look in her eyes.

“Congratulations to you too, Brother.”  Laura said a bit of confusion still on her face mixed with a newer, healthier dose of amusement.  That was the Laura Hale he remembered. 

“Wait, what?”  He asked dryly completely missing half of the things that were being tossed around.

A loud trumpet sounded loudly from outside the windows, a booming voice carried clearly, sounding across the lands, earth, the stone of castle.

“Tonight we celebrate the coming together of two kingdoms!  Tonight we celebrate the marriage of Prince Derek Hale of Lavian and Princess Allison Argent of Alaronia!”  Allison and Derek exchanged incredulous looks, eyes bulging as the booming cheers that followed shook the very foundation they stood on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come soon, I hope.
> 
> TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS? Please? :)


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles White and the Seven Dwarves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! You know the drill: Read, comment, kudos.
> 
> Betaed once again by the Charismatic Caristia, but all mistakes are my own.
> 
> ENJOY!
> 
> theazureaegis.tumblr.com

“ _I think the grumpy one is plotting to eat me.”_ Stiles whispered seriously to the bluebird, which in turn, cocked its head slightly before fluttering back into the woods, unconcerned.  His face flashed disappointment for only a second.  “That’s right my friend!  Fly!  Find me some help!  Meet me back here tomorrow, same time okay?!” He fruitlessly called after the creature as he let his chin rest on the windowsill, the desperation in his voice going ignored. 

“Stiles!  Are you talking to the birds _again?_ ” An overly elated voice called over to him as he let out a huff.  “It’s okay, I like the birds too!”

Turning, Stiles flailed about a bit.  “I can’t help it!  I’ve been stuck in this cabin for _months!_ ” He ground his teeth at his statement, hoping to personify some his disdain and confusion for this whole situation in general.

“It’s barely been _two days._ ” A deeper voice crabbily corrected him.

“Says the one who is a freaking _zombie_ in training.” Stiles muttered under his breath rolling his eyes indignantly. 

“What’s a—a—ACHOO!” Another one of his keepers sneezed violently, wiping his nose with a damp green sleeve before continuing.  “A zombie?” He sniffled, big twinkly eyes revealing the sincerity in his question.

“Just ask Snappy over there!” Stiles threw his hands in the air.  “Or better yet, just wait.” He narrowed his eyes accusingly.  “I’m sure his hungering for brains or human flesh will begin kicking in soon enough!” Stiles stood up, knocking the tiny—probably hand crafted—chair he was sitting on to the ground, wincing slightly as the racket it made abruptly woke up yet another tiny person who seemed to be napping while holding a mop. He blinked, blearily looking around before nodding off again.  Who gave the household chores to Heavily-medicated over there anyways? Seriously, a mop could be considered heavy machinery in this era, or wherever he was.  There had to be some sort of law-breaking going on here.

Three of the Dwarves seemed to take a step away from the grumpy looking one, his frown only deepening as the one with the default expression of a Idaho potato seemed legitimately worried about his comrade in question. 

 _I’m going to nickname that one Scott._   Stiles couldn’t stifle the giggle that bubbled from his throat.  He was going to go _nuts_ soon.  Being trapped in a rather small cabin with eight inhabitants, even if seven of them were less than four feet, was a rather tight squeeze.  And sue him for finding some sort of reprieve from the whole situation by teasing the poor bastards.  If hell _was_ a real place, he considered this his reservation for one.  Surprisingly, he was kind of okay with that.

“I don’t eat people!” The grouchy one threw his hands up.  “Or brains.” He quickly re-crossed his arms into their upright and locked positions.  “I don’t even know _where_ you got that from.  Idiot.”  He mumbled the last word under his breath.

 _That one is totally Derek._   Stiles mused, quickly composing himself for a _dignified_ response.   “I know someone else with your…” Stiles trailed off searching for the right word. “Sourness.” He settled on.  “And he _loves_ hunting small animals, ripping them to shreds and _eating_ them.”  Stiles exaggeratedly nodded.  “Brains and all!” He quickly tacked on, maybe he was pushing this just a _tad_ too far.

“M—maybe Doc can have a look at you, Grumpy.” The shy one stuttered.  “I don’t want you to eat brains.”  He did a timid little shuffle with his feet.

“Yeah!  Brains sound so much less tasty than candy!” The exuberant one piped up, his grin reaching his ears effectively earning him a scowl from the surly one.  “Now I want candy!”  The little thing bounced around for a bit.

"What kind of drugs are you on? And _why_ aren't you sharing?" Stiles deadpanned.

Happy looked confused for a second. "I like drugs!...What are drugs?"

And this is exactly why he did this—this was _so_ much better than cable.  He was rolling with laughter inside his own head as he painfully tried to stay composed beads of sweat dripping from his forehead.  Perhaps if he spent more time actually _trying_ to figure out his new predicament instead of messing with the help …

The dwarfy-jumping-bean bashed right into the sleeping one, knocking over the mop he was dream dancing with and the bucket of water as they both comically slipped on the soapy puddle before losing balances completely, landing hard on their rears.

“What did I miss?” The bleary one asked, as he seemed to decide that the wet, soapy floor would suffice as more than a suitable pillow as he began drifting off again.

Nope.  This was infinitely more entertaining.  Stiles lost his cool, roaring in laughter, actually clutching his sides as the six pairs of eyes just blinked at him mostly confused.  Stiles wiped at his eyes as the door burst open, the seventh and last dwarf standing in the doorway a bit breathless. Some of the the light snow falling outside swept into the cabin in his wake.

“I’ve got news!” He announced from behind his round spectacles.  “There’s going to be a royal wedding tomorrow!  Looks like the Alaronian and Lavian territories will finally be united.”  He waved the newspaper he was holding around like a flag.

“We have to go!” Stiles found himself announcing.  He was stuck in a cabin making fun of the vertically challenged for _two whole days,_ a royal wedding sounded like freaking Valhalla right about now.

“I like weddings!” Short-n-happy shouted out, popping up from the ground like a daisy in springtime before promptly slipping again, landing on O’sleepsalot who let out a pained squeak.

“You like everything!  You were singing about loving windows yesterday!”  Pema-scowl exclaimed.

“Because I like windo—“ Sugar-high was cut off by Narcolepsy under him rolling about, effectively sliding him a few feet across the room.

He really needed to use their names.  He _did_ know them, after all.  It was just _too_ much fun to make up these more … _enjoyable_ … as well as surprisingly accurate names in his head.  Stiles sighed.  “You can’t keep me in here forever!  We _have_ to go, dudes!  It’s gonna be _awe_ some!”  Stiles fist pumped the air hoping for some sort of reaction that meant—yes, we are going. 

Nothing.

“Aren’t you worried about the witch?”  Doc answered carefully.

“Oh.” Stiles had kind of forgotten about that.  After he had awoken alone and cold in the woods about two days ago and stumbled across this little cabin.  And seeing as he only owned the clothes on his back at the time—which weren’t even his, well, not that he knew of anyways—he had desperately tried to explain his situation to these…dwarves who seemed to know him somehow.  Even if his last name was so _not_ White, he felt connected to them in some way.  What he _did_ know is that his dreams were usually never this focused—ADHD did that, and he had been through more than enough supernatural crap to believe he was in a twisted dream of some sort.  Which only meant that there was a high possibility that this was indeed actually happening.

“Well, seeing as it’s been _two_ whole days without incident, I think we should be okay in a crowded place.  No witch would dare attack during the _royal wedding,_ right?”  He tried his best to sound convincing.

Doc seemed to ponder his question for a minute, the rest of the dwarves looking to him for an answer.  “Okay.”

“Come _on—wait,_ did you just say okay?”  Stiles asked skeptically.

“Yeah.  We might see some of our contacts at the wedding, and we can ask them about the witch.” Doc seemed pleased, as did the rest of the dwarves.  Minus _Grump-a-saurus_.  Okay, that was the last one Stiles emptily promised himself.

“Alrighty then!”  Stiles nodded as the dwarves dispersed, immediately beginning to pack some of their little backpacks.  “Wait, what.” Stiles spun around confused.  “Didn’t you say it was tomorrow?”

“Yes, that’s why we have to hurry if we’re going to make it, silly!” Happy bubbled. 

 _Allison, that one is definitely Allison._   Stiles looked down to his simple shirt and leggings.  “Uh, I don’t think this is suitable wedding attire, what do you think?”  The dwarves stopped all at once eyes shifting about nervously.

“We don’t have anything in … your size.” Doc finally broke the awkward silence.  “But you’re right.  If you go to the castle like that you’re probably going to be turned away.” He placed a finger thoughtfully on his chin, calculating.

 _Lydia, if anyone._   Stiles dismissed his own thought.  Invoking the wrath of Lydia Martin by comparing her to a male dwarf was not something he wanted to even _think_ of.  He focused on the problem at hand—escaping casa de dwarf-o.

“Well, can’t you just like make the mice and birds sew me like some awesome dre—suit?” Stiles couldn’t help it if he had seen one too many Disney movies, it was all Allison’s fault!

“What?” Grumpy looked more like Confusey at this point.

“Nothing.” Stiles muttered, a bit depressed.  He _really_ needed out of this cabin, and his one out seemed to be a bust, so he couldn’t help the frustration that was building. He was getting cabin fever from all of this!

“Buddha, I wish I had something to wear to this stupid royal wedding!” He found himself shouting. 

What seemed like a tiny ball of glitter exploded in front of his eyes.  Stiles sputtered automatically desperately backing away from the shiny substance.  Glitter was _so_ the herpes of craft supplies.  Once you get it on you, it’s like impossible to get rid of!

“It took you long enough, Stilinski!” A tiny flippant voice shot through his eardrums.

The confusion bled from his face slowly as a more astonished look replaced it.  Before Stiles fluttered a golden fairy garbed in a brilliant and fluffy azure dress, her tiny golden wings holding her mid-air, in her hands she held a single glowing wand. He probably would have been amazed, if not for the fact that the fairy held a striking resemblance to one Lydia Martin.  Stiles ignored the marathon of sneezing going on behind him as he ogled the floating ball of glitter.

“L-L-Lydia?!” Stiles sputtered.

“No, I’m the freaking _sasquatch_.” Lydia-fairy rolled her eyes.  “I’ve been waiting on you to summon me for like _two days_ now!”  Lydia smacked him on his forehead with her tiny wand the tiny explosion of light hurt a lot more than it looked.

“That fairy is mean.” Sneezy sniffled, rubbing the moisture from his eyes with his now _dripping_ sleeve.

“Indeed, Sneezy!” Stiles agreed, rubbing his forehead when it finally hit him like a flying monkey with a ton of glittery bricks.  “Oh _Buddha_ , we’re stuck in a fairy-tale world—thingy, aren’t we?”  He groaned at the fairy floating in front of him, shattering what little doubts he had left about his situation.

“Stiles!  Really?  Only now?” Lydia huffed setting her eye lasers on maim.

“Okay, okay!  Not that I’m not elated to see you despite your…handicap—why is everyone so tiny in this dream-spell-world-place-thingy.”  Stiles groaned, raking a hand down his face.

“We aren’t in a dream!” Lydia squeaked.  It was only 99.9 percent cute.  Lydia scowled at the tiny smirk that appeared on Stiles’s face. “This is most definitely a spell that got us here.  Nothing to scoff at either.”

Expression hardening, Stiles perked up.

“ _Finally_ , some seriousness from you.” Lydia rolled her tiny eyes at him.  “Whoever cast this was powerful enough to create an entirely alternate reality from our own, including it’s down denizens and _everything_.” She subtly eyed the dwarves standing behind him. 

“You mean them?” Subtly was lost on Stiles.  “So, are they _real?”_  He tried to whisper.

“Yes and no.” Lydia unhelpfully supplied.  “Yes, because in this reality, they are.  But no because when the spell ends, we will return back to our world where they don’t exist.”

“Oh.” And that made sense.  He only felt slightly bad about messing with people—creatures—dwarves that were actually real in a sense.  “So we just have to find that Witch who attacked us, kick her rear and make her end the spell, right?  Cake walk.”

Lydia let loose a high-pitched groan.  “My magic is rather…limited in this form I’ve seemed to have taken, and you’re—“ Lydia scrutinized him with her gaze.  “You.”

“Hey!  I’m awesome!  I’m like the cream of the crop, woman!”

“You have none of your gadgets here.”

“Aaaaaand, I’m a tomato again.”

“What?”

“Don’t ask.  So what now?”

“We find everyone else.  I’m almost certain they are stuck in this world with us as well.”  Lydia looked pained.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles looked over the tiny ball of glitter.

“I was summoned here by _you_ —by your wish.  And the longer I don’t help you, the more I feel the _need_ to.  Stupid good fairy magic bull—”

Stiles guffawed.

“Shut it, Stilinski!”  She screeched, a wisp of hair falling unkempt in front of her flushed face.

“Why is the scary mean fairy calling you Sti-Stili—not Stiles White?”  Dopey needed a hobby, really.

The floating creature’s mouth dropped open.  “Oh my god.  You’re Snow White.” The squeal-laughter that followed was not amusing to Stiles, not at all.

“ _Really?”_ It was his turn to set his eye lasers on…mildly annoyed.  “What?  The _Seven Dwarves_ behind me wasn’t your first clue?”

“I really try not to _judge_ who you choose to spend your time with now days.” Lydia made a failed attempt at sounding sincere.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You _love_ judging.  It’s like your hobby—your job even!  Your hobby-job!  And I wouldn’t talk, aren’t _you_ the freaking Blue Fairy or Fairy Godmother or something?  Hey, at least I’m the fairest of them all.  You’re just the—the _help!_ ” Stiles really regrets his sharp wit sometimes.

“Stiles.” Lydia voiced, nearly emotionless.

“Yes?” He gulped.

“Ever heard of the word ‘man slave’.”

“Synonymous with ‘Jackson’?” He _really_ needed to stop his jabbing—yesterday.

Lydia shrugged nonchalantly.  “You’ll find out if we ever make it out of here.”  Her wide smile bearing nothing but teeth.

He gulped.  Perhaps his 24-hour demise prediction wasn’t such a bad thing.  Stiles stopped.  24 hours was days ago.  And yet here he was, going back and forth with Lydia in a tiny cabin in the woods.  “Lydia!  It’s been more than 24 hours, and I’m not dead!”

Lydia stopped, concern laced between her brows.  “Stiles honey…that may be true…” She trailed off.

“What?”

“Time flows differently in different realities.  I’m not sure what the time flow is in this reality and perhaps, yes, you are free, but…” she looked regretful about what she was saying.  “I’m not convinced you’re out of the woods yet.  But it doesn’t mean that it isn’t a possibility.”  She smiled apologetically.

Stiles nodded, taking in her words.

“Well, of course he’s not.  We haven’t even left the cabin yet!”  Dopey giggled, Happy joining in shortly after unable to resist.

 _Two days?_ Lydia mouthed to Stiles, jutting a thumb at the two dwarf balls of giggles. 

Stiles gave a sad, forlorn nod.

“Well, not that I have a lot to work with, but…” Lydia waved her tiny little wand as suddenly, Stiles was showered in golden light, his threadbare clothing reconstructing itself into a very princely affair.  Royal blue fabric framed strongly by dazzling silver embroidery now splayed from his chest, his pants transformed into a fine pair of slacks that matched perfectly.  He took a gander at himself in the mirror on the nearest wardrobe.  He honestly looked like something out of a live action Disney movie—the guys though, not the frilly dresses.  

He was immediately extremely glad that he was the only ones who could hear his own thoughts.

“Frilly dresses?” Lydia looked amused.

Stiles let out a choked sound.

“Anyways, now that _that_ is out of my system.  We need to find the others.  Go to the wedding, it seems to be one of the central elements of happenstance this world.  Even all the other fairies were abuzz about it.”

“What about you?” Stiles asked, loving Lydia at this moment for both his new threads and for skipping over the whole dress ordeal.

“For now you seem to be my only charge, and apparently fairies in this world have to abide by a certain code so I can’t use any of this fairy powered juice for malevolent means.”  Lydia looked annoyed.

“So no sparkly attack spells?  Damn.” Stiles snapped his fingers sarcastically.

“This fairy magic is no joke Stiles.” Lydia deadpanned.  “But it seems I still have some my own abilities too, so I’ll work on trying to break free of this strictly PG magic while you look for everyone else.”

“How will I contact you?”  Stiles nodded.

“Now that you’re my ‘charge’, I can keep an eye on you at all times.  Just call out if you need me.”  She nodded.

“Rude.  And creepy.” Stiles shuddered.  No happy fun Stiles time in the near future, that was for sure, he made a mental not to be on his best behavior.  Or to do things that would scar Lydia for life.  One of the two would work for him.  “Wait, so do I have to be somewhere by midnight, or leave a shoe somewhere, or I become a pumpkin?” He couldn’t stay the small chuckle he let out.

“Unfortunately my glitter-magic does have time restrictions.” Lydia nodded thoughtfully before snapping her fingers a pop of light flashing as his outfit radiated for a millisecond, a shit-eating grin splaying across her face.

“What. Did. You. Just. Do.”  Stiles felt dread pooling in his gut.

“Hmmm, good Derek impression.”  She nodded.  “Nothing, just a little _twist_ on the spell.  Be out of the wedding by midnight on the night after tonight, or your outfit turns into a frilly, hot pink dress.”  Lydia winked.

Imitating a goldfish, Stiles agreed with a shaky nod.

“I like frilly, hot pink dresses!” Happy popped his head up from where he had slid against the wall.

Stiles groaned.

“Call me if you need me.” Lydia smiled sheepishly at Stiles before bailing in another gaudy display of glitter.

 

* * *

 

Suddenly it was less of a mystery why it would take them an entire day and them some to reach their destination.  Stiles felt winded, magical clothing thankfully keeping him surprisingly warm in the leisurely falling snow.  He had been hiking through the forest for about four hours now following an unmarked trail, letting the Dwarves lead the charge, but the forest gave no signs of thinning anytime soon.  The forest reminded him a bit of the national park in Michigan, but like everything else in this world it seemed, it was just so much brighter, even cheerier.  It really didn’t feel like a spell the wicked witch of the Canadia Land would have whipped up for them.  His stomach protested it’s currently empty state.

“I’m tired.” Stiles let out a sharp whine.  “And hungry.”  He pat his stomach with condolences.

“And _whiny._ ” Grumpy mumbled under his breath.

“Oh! Oh! Can we call you Whiny?  It's such a cute nickname!” Happy bounced about in the snow.

It was official, he was being bullied by little people.  This would not suffice, not at all.  Stiles opened his mouth, a witty retort on the tip of his tongue when a double bladed axe sunk angrily into the tree trunk to the left of him eliciting a very manly squeal.

The Dwarves scattered, Grumpy and Doc tackling Stiles down into the snow as a second axe found its mark right where his head had been mere moments ago.

“What the—“ Stiles exclaimed crouching in the snow, searching desperately for his assailant.

“Hey, I know that squeal.” A voice resounded faintly, the words lost between the trees and snow.  “Stiles?”

“Who’s there?”  Stiles demanded, finally finding his courage.

A man jumped down from a tree about 10 meters up from where they had stopped his uneven jawline accentuated by the grimace he currently wore.

“Scott?” Stiles wasn’t even sure if it was his best bro.  The sheepish expression of recognition changed that.  Scott was wearing an odd outfit, a thick flannel plaid red and white shirt with a pair of tattered jeans, tanned leather boots adding to his overall lumberjack-like look, the brown bomber hat on his head completing his outerwear.  “Scott, man!  What the _actual_ fuck?”  Stiles was scrambling to his feet, pushing the two Dwarves that saved his life out of his lap as he stomped over to his best friend.

“Oh … Stiles said a bad word.” Bashful’s voice was muffled as his face was currently buried in the snow.

“Sorry!  I—I—“ Scott stuttered, waving his hands defensively in front of him.

“You almost _killed_ me!”  Stiles was distraught, his limbs flying every which way as he continued to shout.

“I didn’t know it was you!” Scott cried.

“Didn’t know it was me?  _Didn’t know it was me?!”_ Stiles was going to give this puppy a piece of his mind.  “So you were just, what?  _Waiting_ for someone here?  Waiting to kill some _random person_?”

“No!  Well, yes!” Scott fumbled with his words.  “No!  It’s complicated.” He let out an exasperated whine.

“Explain!”  Stiles barked irritably, ignoring the fact that this was the second time today he was clearly imitating a certain red-eyed werewolf.

“Look!  I woke up here a few days ago wearing some weird lumberjack outfit.” Scott mumbled as Stiles raised an eyebrow at him.  “And then there was like this witch who told me that if I ever wanted to see Allison or any of you guys again I would have to do something for her!” Scott was on the verge of babbling now.

“Witch?  Wait what witch?  The witch from the hotel?!”  Stiles’s eyes bulged.

“Now that you mention it, yeah it was.” Scott’s head tilted slightly one eye half closed in thought.

“ _Really_ , Scott?”

“I was kind of distracted by her threat of killing all of you!”  Scott sighed throwing his hands up into the air.

“Wait, what exactly did she ask you to do?”  Stiles felt uneasy about his question, though he had an inkling.

“Just to wait on this pathway…” Scott trailed off looking guilty.  “For someone named White, and to ‘take them out’.” Scott used air quotes.  “But you’re clearly not this ‘White’ fellow… so I’ll just go back into that tree and…”

“Of course he is, silly!  That’s Stiles White!” Happy clearly had no brain-to-mouth filter.  And Stiles really couldn’t help but commiserate with the silly little creature at this.  He decided he would buy Happy a nice beanie, one that could be pulled _all_ the way down, over his mouth if the need arose.

Scott looked pained, his whole expression confused, twisted, his face slightly green.  “You’re Stiles _White_?  I’m supposed to kill… _you_?”

“Apparently.” Stiles replied dryly, he needed help, things were getting complicated now—well, more so than before, anyways.  “Lydia!” he screeched loudly. 

Scott looked around, confused, his eyes widening as something flittered down from the sky leaving a trail of sparkles in its wake.

“What?  No grand explosion of glitter as an entrance this time?” Stiles cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Lydia?!” Scott squinted his eyes at her sticking a finger out as if to poke her with it, snapping it back immediately as she shot him one of her maiming glares.

“She’s my fairy godmother—or the Blue Fairy.  Wait—wouldn’t that make me Pinocchio?  Did Snow White even have fairies?”  Stiles sighed, his brain beginning to hurt.

“She had dwarves.” Scott said offhandedly looking at the seven little people ogling them with their eyes that were really too big for their small stature.  Must be a fairy tale thing.

“Are you two about finished?  I’m not just lying around waiting for you to call you know.”  Lydia rolled her tiny eyes. 

“The witch told Scott to kill me!  And he almost did!”

“I didn’t know it was _him_!”

“You still threw _two_ axes!  At my head!  And I like my head, it's one of my best features!”

“I _said_ I was sorry!”

“Boys!” Lydia’s tiny voice was surprisingly loud.  The two boys instantly stopped bickering, staring slack jawed at the irritated fairy floating between them.  “I swear, if you don’t cut this out I’m totally turning _you both_ into tiny woodland creatures!”  She huffed.

“Sorry.” Scott and Stiles harmonized at the same time.

“Now what I got from…” She waved her arms in front of her wildly.  “All that, was that there was a witch, probably the one from the hotel?” She waited for one of the two to nod.  “And she wanted you to kill Stiles?  But you didn’t know she was asking you to kill Stiles?  Is that correct?”

The two boys nodded.

“But she said that she had you guys captured, and if I wanted to save you I just had to take out this White dude.  I honestly thought she was just racist.”  Scott mumbled vehemently.

“She was obviously trying to trick you.” Lydia sighed.

“She obviously tricked you.” Stiles corrected Lydia’s statement, earning him a fresh glare of doom.

The tiny fairy sighed again, looking Scott over.  “I think you’re supposed to be the huntsman.”

“I’m a villain?  What?  How could this happen to me?  Allison is going to be so disappointed.”  Scott’s kicked puppy expression was on full force as he slipped down the tree trunk he was leaning against, his head between his hands.

“Why would she be—“ Stiles stopped himself from asking.  They had bigger fish to fry.  He shook his head “Never mind.  Anyways, _have_ you seen anyone else at all?”

“Nobody from our group.” Scott shook his head.  “I did see a few squirrels.  But no other _people_.” He clarified.

“Go to the royal wedding with Stiles, Scott.”  Lydia placed a thoughtful finger on her chin.  “I think the others will be there.”

“What royal wedding?” Scott perked up a bit.  “Wait, as what?  His _date_?”

Stiles scoffed, not knowing whether to be insulted or relieved.  “Yes, totally my date.  Don’t tell me that I’m not your type _now_!” He rolled his eyes at Scott’s indecisive expression, sighing.  “This one.” He rummaged the newspaper in his backpack where Doc had stuffed it earlier, looking over the article for the first time.  He froze, his heart clenching in his chest.  “What?”

“Stiles?” Lydia fluttered over to him looking over the paper big bold letters clearly spelling out ‘Royal Wedding Tomorrow!’ right below them the slightly smaller title spelt out clear as day.  ‘Join us tomorrow at Castle Lavian for the union of two kingdoms!  Prince Derek Hale and Princess Allison Argent will be wed at sundown!’  She let out a small gasp.

“Oh my Buddha.  Princess Alison and Prince Derek are getting married.” Stiles’s voice was devoid of any emotions.

“Awesome, Allison always wanted to be a princes—WHAT?”  Scott ripped the paper from Stiles’s hands.  “How could he!  How could _she!_   W-w-what is going on?!”  Scott was hysterical his eyes darting across the bold lettering over and over as the shock on his face grew.

Stiles watched his best bud freak out as he internally processed what he just read.  Derek was getting married to Allison.  Derek was getting married.  And while he knew in his mind it was probably something to do with this crazy world they were stuck in—that there had to be a reasonable explanation, just like there had to be a reasonable explanation for the crippling pain he felt in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm suddenly worried that I may be boring y'all. But let me know what you think. *nervous*
> 
> Oh Buddha...I'm heading into the 100k territory, aren't I? D:
> 
> Oh, on a side note, if you feel like reading something heartwrenching, I wrote a one-shot. 
> 
> Its not conclusive and very sad at the moment, so don't read if you don't like that kind of stuff :).
> 
> [In Exchange for My Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/561119)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, Derek and Allison prepare for the royal wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahhhh, I know. But 100,000 words, whoooo...
> 
> Betaed once again by the amazing Caristia. All mistakes are still my own though!

“Derek—honey, close your mouth.” Alexis seemed to glide over to her son as she offered him a concerned look.

Blinking quickly, Derek snapped back into actuality.  “Wait, I’m marrying _her_?”

Laura forced out a nervous chuckle.  “I’m sure he doesn’t mean any disrespect, Princess.” She reached over and clutched Derek’s shoulder.  _Hard._ His eye twitched from the shooting pain.

Luckily, Allison quickly composed herself.  “No—no, no.  It’s quite all right.” She paused, nervously flattening the frills on the front of her dress.  “I guess I’m a bit confused myself…” She trailed off as flattening the frills turned into wringing them.

“If I could just have a moment with my son?”  Alexis gracefully—well, as gracefully as one could, wrenched Laura’s death grip from Derek’s shoulder, guiding him into the opposite corner of the grand dining hall.

“Derek!” She whispered harshly after flashing Allison a placating smile.  “What are you doing? What are you saying?” She pinched the bridge of her nose as she sighed, trying to keep her composure.  “You were the one who set all of this up, _remember_?  We told you that we would fully support any decision you would made when it came to your betrothed, but _you_ distinctly chose Allison.” Her expression gave way to a softer one, her face still radiant despite the situation. Derek was unsure if it was the lighting or just the aftereffect of the shock of seeing her again after so long.  He couldn’t help but frown.

“Sorry.” Derek mumbled half-heartedly.  One-word answers were his specialty after all.  He had the decency to look guilty, at the very least.

“My boy, come here.” Alexis swooped in to give him the biggest, tightest hug ever, making a bittersweet feeling wash through his entire being.  How he missed this.  How he missed her.  He warbled slightly in place as he raised his arms to return the gesture wholeheartedly.  Who knows if he would ever be able to experience this again?  Just the thought of possibly losing her again tied his stomach in knots.

“ _Anyone but Kate_.” Alexis did a surprisingly accurate reproduction of a grumpy Derek as she pulled back, chuckling.

The mention of the name caused Derek to do a full body shudder.

“Allison is a kind girl.” The queen reassured him.  “She is nothing like her monster of an Aunt.”  Alexis’ expression went far off for a second before refocusing.  “What _she_ did to us was completely of her own conjectures.  Peace between our nations is something we have only _dreamed_ of for years now Derek, and you were the one to make that notion a reality.” She beamed at her son.  “Thank you.”  She leaned forward to plant a chaste kiss to his forehead.  “Thank you so very much.  We are so proud of you.”

He could only nod as a response, a crippling pang lacing through his chest.  This was the Alexis Hale who had raised him.  Equal parts of grace and diplomacy with a dash of scariness—Laura had to have gotten it from somewhere.  

Derek was already beyond confused about this whole situation of landing in this alternate reality—if that was what it even was, and now on top of that he was getting mixed up in the politics of this world.  It was almost too much to see his family alive again, and to top it off they seemed to be in trouble.  Could he just remain a bystander while his family suffered?  But they weren’t his family, not really anyways.  He was going to give himself a complex—something he used to tease Stiles about endlessly.

“Hey, you guys almost done over here?” Laura had done a decent job of sneaking up on them.  “I mean you _do_ have a little free time before the ceremony, but I figured you would be using that to, erm, you know?” Laura winked at her brother as she playfully elbowed him in his side.

Successfully choking on any response he had in mind, Derek shot his sister a perturbed look.  Which she returned in full, and possibly doubled.

“What?” She shrugged at him, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she turned back around to walk back to where Allison was awkwardly standing alone.

He pointed at her and looked at the queen.  She shrugged.  “You know Derek, if you _wanted_ to—“

“ _Mother_!” Derek shouted loudly as he stalked off, a confused Allison trailing close behind.

 

* * *

 

“Scott is going to be _so_ mad.”  Allison sighed as she buried her face in her hands, seemingly more out of frustration than actual sorrow or guilt.

Derek countered with one raised bushy eyebrow.

“ _I_ know that this isn’t for real, you know?  But you know how Scott can be sometimes.” She unburied her face as a hollow thud sounded out through the room from her head crashing against the stone wall.

“It’s real to them.” Derek solemnly replied, an unrequired gesture to the door where the rest of his family was preparing for the wedding ceremony—their wedding ceremony.

“Derek.” Allison’s voice was lined with concern.

“I know.” Derek replied curtly, irritated with this whole situation.  “We have to figure out how to get out of here—this place.” He couldn’t help the disappointment that he felt at his own statement.  _He had missed them_.  So much.

“We need to find the others first.”  Allison announced to the ceiling.  “If they’re even here.” Her voice trailed off slightly.

 _Stiles._   Derek couldn’t deny the fact that the goofy kid was the first person he thought of from their group, maybe even going as far as wondering if he was okay—or possibly in a similar situation as him.  Maybe he was betrothed as well, at this very moment about to marry someone else.

“Derek?” Allison looked confused.  
The alpha’s eyes flicked over to the girl.

“You were just growling?”  Allison scrunched her face at her question-statement of fact.

“No I wasn’t.” Denial seemed like the perfect excuse right now.

“No, you really—“

“We need to figure out what we’re going to do about this whole wedding…thing.” Derek’s delivered his red herring less than gracefully.  Subject change was really Stiles’s strong point.

The expression on Allison’s face relaxed, as she seemed to let the whole growly situation slide.  She peered out the window, the sun setting quickly to the west.  “Well, we only seem to have a few hours left before the wedding ceremony.” She brought a finger to her chin in thought. “Think we have enough time to search around before the big event?”  She was wringing at her dress again, the frills clearly wrinkled from the nervous habit she seemed to develop.

Growing purposefully this time, Derek shook his head.   They were losing daylight fast, and they only had perhaps an hour at the most before they were expected to prepare for the event.  He was actually surprised that they had that long to themselves from the one wedding he attended when he was younger.  He never expected after everything to be the groom at a wedding ceremony, least of all with an Argent.  He winced at the fact that he had even entertained the idea in the past.  If he were to be with anyone at this point in his life he would have guessed someone very different, with shorter hair and possibly a more sarcastic take on life.  The past conversations, situations, and general ridiculousness, that had genuinely made him smile in the past came flooding back to him. _Damn._  

The longing he began to feel rivaled the feelings he felt when he saw his mother, father, and sister again.  A realization he wasn’t ready to be having at this exact moment, especially when he was to be married in a few short hours.  He actually never expected to feel this way again ever, not after what he had gone through with the one romantic encounter in his life.

That’s when he noticed Allison watching him carefully, concern and amusement playing on the angles of her face, as if she couldn’t decide which of the two emotions she should be feeling at the moment.  She sputtered when Derek surprised her with a smile, reflecting the action back at the alpha after she recovered.

“Thinking about someone?” Allison carefully asked, her eyes flicking between Derek’s face and the window, her attempt at nonchalance an utter failure.

“Maybe.” He muttered back barely audible.

A hollow knock on the door interrupted their conversation, as they both turned quickly to the door before exchanging glances.

“Who?” Allison mouthed to Derek, eyes wide. 

Derek just shook his head and shouted for them to come in.

“Derek, Allison, you have a visitor.”  Laura’s head peeked through the doorway as she opened the heavy wooden door to reveal another person beside her in the stairwell that lead up to his room.

“Jackson!” Allison jumped up from the bed, running over to give him a gigantic bear hug, the blonde teen just standing where he was planted, a blank look on his face. 

The confused look from Laura caused Derek to stand, walking over to the door to place a hand on Jackson’s shoulder.  “Jackson.” He was using his alpha voice when Laura’s head snapped towards him. 

“Brother, come with me for a moment, won’t you?” Laura forcefully pulled him into the stairwell without a moment to spare, dragging him down until they hit a landing about halfway down out of immediate earshot.  “ _How?”_ Laura announced, perturbed.

“What?” Derek continued to be confused.

“You know exactly what!” She quickly moved from perturbed to annoyed.  “Don’t play dumb with me brother!  I was next in line for Alpha!”  She bit her nails as she looked out the immediate window, confusion and nervousness rolling off of her entire being.

“Oh?” Derek was trying desperately to catch on.  They were clearly still werewolves in this fairy tail of a place, one less thing to worry about.  “I’m not the alpha.”  Derek supplied weakly, the irony of his response striking him.

“Don’t even, Derek.  Don’t play games with me!  If mom and dad passed it on to you, you can tell me.  It’s probably because you’re marrying the Argent girl, isn’t it?”

“No!” His mind was racing as he tried to think of some sort of explanation.  “I—I mean yes.” He wasn’t good with this whole lying thing, especially with his sister, he never was. 

She flashed him a dubious look at the obvious deceits.

“Look, it’s not what you think, Laura.”

“And what exactly _am_ I thinking?”  Her face scrunched with annoyance at his response.

“That it has something to do with you!” Derek was starting to get upset.  He had just gotten her back and now she thought he’d stolen the Alpha-hood from her.  Which he kind of did?  But it wasn’t actually her.  Scratch that, this Laura wasn’t actually her.  Except it was.  He pinched the bridge of his nose like his mother, “It’s really complicated, but all I have to say is that it’s not something you did, or didn’t do.  It has nothing to do with this marriage, or anything like that.  It’s something that happened, and you, mom, and dad here had nothing to do with it.”  Oxygen flooded his deprived lungs as he took a deep breath through his nose willing himself back into check.  He couldn’t really afford to let his emotions get the best of him here of all places, especially after working so hard to get an iron grip handle on them.  It was just harder here, harder with the scars of his past ripped open in the blink of an eye.

The orange rays of the sun danced on the stone walls behind them as the sun dipped below the mountain ranges far to the west, the entire sky dyed an portentous blood red.  An ominous feeling swept through him causing his hackles to rise.

Laura blinked as her expression changed.  She shook her head.  “Something isn’t right here.  What you’re saying is the truth, but I know.”  She nodded solemnly.  “I overheard mom and dad talking, and they decided that you should be the one to take over as alpha once you are married.  The ceremony is essentially the passing of the alpha-hood to you.  And it’s not like I don’t think you deserve it or anything because you do!  It’s because of you that the hunts have stopped, and we have a peace now.  You do deserve it.”  She looked at her feet as she ground her teeth, another familiar habit of hers.  “But I just don’t understand how you have it already.”  Her voice tapered off.

Derek caught only about every other word as his entire being went into danger mode.  Something wasn’t right here and his inner wolf was screaming at him to be on alert.

“Derek?” Laura seemed to catch wind of it too as her eyes flashed indigo, her eyes shooting upwards where they left Allison and Jackson alone.

“I can’t hear them talking.” Derek muttered as he strained to hear something, anything, a heartbeat, or conversation, small talk or even breathing.  Nothing.  “Something is wrong.” He bound up the stairs two at a time scrambling to a halt in front of his closed bedroom door, Laura arriving on the landing a moment after him.  He reached for the latch and carefully opened it, his eyes bleeding red. 

“Derek!” Allison smiled as she looked over from where she was seated at his desk, her gaze shifted to Laura for only a moment before turning back to Jackson.  “Um, Jackson here is here to wish us a happy wedding!” She happily announced nodding at Laura.

Jackson simply nodded at her statement.

“A—and he just wanted to speak to you Derek.” She paused, hesitating for a second.  “Alone?”  She stood and walked to the doorway smiling as she stopped next to Laura, who looked a bit confused walking into something so tame when only a second ago it seemed like there would be a life or death situation awaiting them in Derek’s bedroom.

“Oh.  Oh!  Okay.” Laura quickly shifted gears, thankfully.  “It’s about time for you to get in your wedding gown anyways!” She offered Derek a quick smile with an underlying we-will-talk-later look.

After Allison and Laura left down the stairs he finally turned to Jackson, the blank look still on his face.  “Jackson.” Derek nodded at him.  “Are you _our_ Jackson?”  Derek only questioned it for a second when he realized the stupidity of his own question.  If he wasn’t he wouldn’t know.

“Yes.” Jackson replied quickly.

A raised eyebrow countered his reply.  “What’s going on?  Did you find anyone else?”  Derek was confused by the boy’s actions, something didn’t feel right.  It almost reminded him of when Jackson was a Kanima.

“No, no one else.”  Jackson’s replies seemed to rival his own.  “I need something from you.”

“What?  And what is going on with you?”

“Nothing—just I need to tell you something.”

“Well?” Derek was getting aggravated, something was seriously going on here but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.  Why couldn’t he hear them talking earlier, the walls were thick but not _that_ thick.  He listened.  But he couldn’t hear his heartbeat or his breathing.  Something or someone was obviously blocking his werewolf senses from Jackson. 

Alas, his realization was too late, as Jackson appeared right in front of him, blue eyes glowing.  Derek’s eyes burned red as he prepared for a fight.  He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his forearm and reactively jumped back.  Derek quickly recovered, crouching low to the ground, eyes ablaze before he blinked. 

Nothing. 

Jackson was simply gone.  He backed himself into a corner of the room in order to survey the area quickly, but he couldn’t hear anything, just like before.  With no hope of tracking Jackson, if that was even Jackson, his eyes returning to normal as he grimaced. 

Why was that kid always getting in weird types of trouble?

Chancing a look at his forearm where a stripe of his red blood remained, the skin underneath instantly mended.  He scowled as he quickly wiped it away with the sleeve of his shirt, the crimson of his blood contrasting the whiter than white fabric.  He gazed towards the open door; his expression melting slightly as he realized the teen was really, truly gone.  “Jackson.”  He trailed off frowning; something most definitely was amiss here.

* * *

 

Mere hours after the Jackson incident, Derek was in an overly adorned suit of some sort, probably equally expensive as it was itchy. The golds and reds glimmered in the candles' and torchlights' surrounding the ceremony grounds; silver and blue tassels swaying slightly in the evening breeze as he shook the hands of hundreds of faceless people who had some sort of connection to his kingdom or the next.  And that was how Derek found himself standing awkwardly on a stage with a royal band playing some sort of wedding tune in the background as hundreds of people gathered around to watch the history in the making union of two kingdoms that he had never even heard of before.  Oh, and he was the prince of one of them.  Yep, just another normal day in his lif—okay now _this_ was strange even for him and his motley group of misfits.

The politics of this world were clearly something in a delicate balance now yet he found himself smack dab in the middle of all of it.  Derek blinked as the crowd began to settle into their seats for the main event, him.  And Allison.  He fought the urge to wolf out and run.  He really didn’t know why he was going through with this. 

_Crap._

Except, he knew _exactly_ why he was doing this as Alexis and Liam beamed at their son from their seats on the stage on in the grand courtyard of the castle while Laura shot him a mixture of serious nods and teasing eyebrows.  Yep, that was most definitely his sister.  He shook his head fondly.  There had been no sign of Jackson after the incident in his room and he hadn’t seen Allison since as well.  Any attempts of sneaking into his room got him chided by the servants, his sister, or his mother under the harsh implication of “bad luck” about seeing the bride in her wedding dress.  He was suddenly reminded about how annoying living with other werewolves was; you can never sneak anywhere or sneak up and scare the living daylights out of certain people ever!  Okay, so maybe that last part was purely for selfish reasons.

The last of the murmurs from the masses died off as the band picked up.  Makeshift spotlights from bright torches shown brightly on a spot off towards the back of the courtyard as Allison strode into view.  Her gown shimmered in the spotlights as what looked like pearly white shells dangled from each of the furls unfolding from the waist of the dress all the way down to her glass slippers.  Yep, glass slippers.  A single sash in white extended from her left shoulder over her chest before joining with the shell-adorned waves of white and peach that completed her dress.  Her hair was done up into elegant curls as a small veil spouted from the top to cover the top of her face, a simple, yet elegant bouquet of white and peach roses and lilies held like a prayer between her hands.  Even Derek had to admit she looked simply graceful in her wedding attire as the oohs and ahhs of the crowd erupted in a hushed explosion. 

With only a slight hitch in her step, Allison gave Derek a brief nod before stepping forward towards the stage as she flashed the biggest smile she could muster at denizens and officials that whispered her name in awe as she glided past him or her.  Derek knew though, she put on a brave front but there must have been a torrent of nervousness and uncertainty churning inside her judging by the cocktail that was currently olfactible from all the way across the courtyard.  She flashed him a nervous smile as she finally reached the stage area as the music continued to play.

And that’s when it hit him.  He was doing this for his family, but would this be real?  Would he be staying here with them for eternity after this?  What would happen when if he somehow succeeded to return back to his bleak life in Beacon Hills?  But that was just it; his life wasn’t bleak, at least not anymore.  His life had been a living hell only a mere few years ago taking rollercoaster ups and downs, but now, now his life was completely something else.  Derek wondered what had caused the change in his life, what had changed that made everything so much better.  Or rather who?  He knew.  He really did.  But what could he do about it?  He knew what he smelled from the boy, but he also knew he had some competition now.  Would he be willing to fight for his own happiness?

  
“Derek, we need to talk.” She whispered knowing he would be able to hear her.

“Yeah.” Derek whispered back before repeating himself into her ear after realizing that she couldn’t hear him.

He had to at least try.  He couldn’t go through with this.  The lies, the deceit, he had already confused the hell out of this world’s Laura, how would doing this be any better for his parents in this world?  How would this look to Sti—

“About the wedding.” She sounded torn. 

King Liam stood to announce the welcomes to the kingdom.

“What about it?” He quickly whispered back butterflies churning in his stomach.  He had to stop this.  He was really lucky they were supposed to be standing so close together.

“I know I’m helping you, and your family.  But I don’t know if I can—“ Allison stopped as King Liam paused for the booming applause that followed his welcome speech.

Derek turned to Allison resolving on a decision.  “I can’t do this.  It’s not fair to you and Scott, or to my family here.  Or to Stiles.”

Allison nodded as the ceremony seemed to halt abruptly.  “Stiles?” Allison questioned, only to realize that there was a silence settling around them, as even the band had stopped playing their music.  She gulped nervously, cracking a weak smile at the leering eyes.

Right.  Werewolves. 

“Mom, Dad, I can explain.” Derek began as the murmurs started.  “I—" Derek stopped as a shooting pain coursed through his entire being.  He screamed out in agony as it seemed like he was burning from the inside out, as the King and Queen rushed to their son.

“Derek!”

He could faintly hear his name being called out by his parents and Allison as his vision and hearing ebbed in and out with the spikes of pain.  Derek was confused though, the pain and the burning it was exactly like aconite poisoning, but he hadn’t come in contact with any, nor eaten or drank anything since he woke up, surely the poison would have affected him before hand.  And if it was airborne, why wasn’t Laura or his parents affected by it?  His mind was clearly too lucid during this process of burning torture as his body convulsed and the panic swept through the ceremony, he could hear the crashing of tables turning over and the screams of the crowd as they most likely ran out of the courtyard.

“You!” He faintly heard his father call out as he heard Allison squeak among the chaos that was exploding around him.

_No._

“Did you do this?  Why?” He heard his mother’s accusations loud and clear.

 _It wasn’t her!_ He wanted to scream it but all that came out was well, screams—of agony.

“Guards!” Liam called out as he heard Allison pleading her innocence.  He needed to do something, but what, he clearly wasn’t in control of his own body, let alone able to defend Allison from the castle guards and his parents.  The pain was ripping him in two.

“Unhand my daughter, you mongrels!”  Victoria Argent’s voice pierced through the pain.

When suddenly it stopped.  As abruptly as the twisting, burning pain started, it simply stopped.  Granted, he wasn’t going to complain about it, but it was sure odd.

“No, wait!  It wasn’t Allison!”  Derek shouted between gulping down air. 

His father turned to him bewildered.

“What? Son, how can you be sure?”  His father held up his hands to stop the guards from dragging Allison and her parents away.

“Trust me, father, I know.” He propped himself up on his elbows on the stage as he enunciated his words the best he could.  The pain was gone now, but the muscle spasms seemed to take their toll on his body, he could barely move.

“But I heard her, she didn’t want this wedding, or was that you…” Alexis seemed to have calmed down a bit replaying the last few moments in her head when she realized.  “ _You_ were the one who said you didn’t want this to take place, Derek.  Why?”

Allison stiffly nodded at him reaffirming his decision.

“Because I’m not your Derek, not really.”  It was like he let out a massive breath he had been holding the entire day.

“Nonsense, I would know my own son.” Alexis brushed him off as she composed herself, Laura close at her side.

“No, I think he’s right mother.” Laura finally spoke up.  “He—he’s already an Alpha, and you two haven’t handed it down to him yet, have you?”

“What?  Son, is this true?” Liam took a step back from his son as Derek let his eyes bleed the crimson that only came from being an Alpha wolf.  “How?”

“We are from another—“ Allison searched for the right word.  “Reality?  We don’t really know how we ended up here.” She sighed in relief, as the guards seemed to have let her go.

“You too?”  Chris Argent cupped Allison chin as he inspected her.  “I’m not sure what to believe.”

“I don’t think they are lying.” Laura nodded at the pair as all eyes were scrutinizing their every detail and traits.

“So you’re not from this…reality you say?” Liam sounded even more confused than he looked, which was a feat in itself.  “How is that even possible?”

“How are werewolves even possible.” Allison mumbled under her breath as Alexis let out a chuckle smiling at the girl. 

“There is a lot of magic in our world, Liam.”  Alexis nodded at her husband.  “It is a possibility that maybe they were sent here through magical means.  It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.”

“There have been others?” Allison looked hopeful.  “Was there ever a boy around my age, kind of hopeless looking, spaces out a lot and reminds you of a potato?” Allison’s genuine expression was what did it for Derek.

He burst out laughing at this only to wince in pain as his muscles were not quite ready to move like that just yet.

“Son!” Liam helped Derek up.  “We need to get him to a healer, take him to the infirmary.”

“I’m sorry princess, but there have been no others like the one you are describing.  However there was this one little gir—“ An azure flash suddenly interrupted the queen as a familiar face appeared on the opposite side of the courtyard.

“Ry? Ry!” Allison called out to the man as he walked towards them gripping his arm as it dripped blood.  “Oh my gosh, you’re hurt!” She rushed over as he shook his head, pushing the girl aside to finally look up, revealing his bloodshot eyes glazed over as he fought to breathe properly.

“Derek.” Ry’s voice was raw and wrecked.  It scared the shit out of Derek; he had never seen the man like this before, nor did he think he ever would have.

Derek’s hackled rose as he suddenly felt the presence he had felt earlier in the day somewhere in the distance.  He stood up straight, the pain and muscle aches suddenly just a dull irritant in the background.

 Ry squeezed his eyes shut as a single tear ran down his cheek.  “Derek, I’m so sorry.  I tried.  I really did.” He doubled over as Derek rushed over to the man, holding his shoulders as he searched his face for an answer.

“Ry, what happened?  What’s wrong?”  Allison asked as she held him up from the opposite side of Derek.

 “Stiles—he’s—Stiles is dead.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me this long!!! I really appreciate all the kudos and comments. Life hit me like a truck and that's why this is so late, but I will be trying my best to update more often now that I've moved and all the such.
> 
> So, leave me a comment!!!! Because it really does help me write faster...
> 
> Also, LoL, cliffhanger.

**Author's Note:**

> I do plan on finishing this storyline, however the amount of Kudos and comments will most likely influence how fast I do finish it! I plan to update often, so check back when you can! Also, I've never used Ao3 before so if you see formatting errors...that is most likely why. Feel free to point out any mistakes.


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